


signed, sealed, delivered (i'm yours)

by bevioletskies



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-07-18 12:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16118234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevioletskies/pseuds/bevioletskies
Summary: “Did you know Mister Peter has a big crush on you?”“That’s not - that’s hardly appropriate conversation for the classroom, Clementine,” Gamora scolded. She paused. “When did you hear that?”“Yesterday in his music class, when he told us,” Clementine said cheerfully.“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like - ”“He said, ‘I think Miss Gamora is real smart and cool and pretty and I like her a whole lot. Do you think she likes me, too?’. We said we weren’t sure,” Clementine continued, oblivious to Gamora’s incredulous expression. “I mean, you yelled at him real loud last week when he accidentally broke your pencil sharpener. But I think he did it ‘cos he wanted to talk to you.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is from the song [Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I'm Yours)](https://open.spotify.com/track/2jg4Yc8071puvDRYi22B3a?si=6kqEEa6-SFqxfLRS5Z7d0A) by Stevie Wonder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for brief mentions of Thanos's abuse of Gamora and Nebula and Ego's abuse of Peter and Mantis, respectively.

It all started the day Gamora was called into the principal’s office. And no, she wasn’t in trouble, but it sure felt like she was. Her mind was racing as she recalled the past week in her mind, trying to remember if she had any incidents with her students - particularly some of the transfers from other planets that came from wealthy families, who seemed prone to pushing her buttons just because they could - when the principal practically swaggered in, sat down, and kicked his feet up on his desk.

“How’ve you been, Gamora? Summer break treat you alright?” Yondu bared what she suspected was supposed to be a friendly grin in her direction, but his teeth ruined the effect.

“My sister and I went away for a little while,” Gamora said politely, twisting her hands fretfully in her lap.

“Sun and surf? Or are you more of the cold climate type?” He eyed her inquisitively.

“Fitness retreat on Praxius, actually,” Gamora replied. “Two weeks of weight training, pilates, and cardio.”

Yondu sighed, disappointed, shaking his head. “You need to learn how to have some _real_ fun, girl. Anyways, I wanted to introduce you to the new teachers comin’ in this year, see if you can show ‘em around. I know they’re a week late and we had to get some subs ‘cos of ‘em, but they’re...well, they’re my kids, so I guess it’s as good an excuse as any.”

“I didn’t know you had children,” Gamora said, surprised. She thought briefly of Kraglin, the school’s officer. He had mentioned to her once that Yondu was something of a father figure to him, but they weren’t actually related, at least, not by blood.

In lieu of responding, Yondu turned towards the door and called, “Peter! Mantis! Get in here already, we’re burnin’ daylight!” Gamora watched as two sheepish-looking figures entered the room, sitting in the chairs beside her, keeping their heads down like schoolchildren who had been scolded by their teacher - or, in this case, their surrogate father. Her eyes flickered briefly over them both, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

Peter looked to be a few years older than her at the very most, tall and broad-shouldered, with unruly strawberry-blond hair and a somewhat unkempt beard, donning a red leather jacket and jeans, hardly appropriate attire for an elementary school teacher. There was a glint of equal parts mirth and warmth in his blue-green eyes, and his fingers were tapping a steady pattern on the odd device hooked on his belt. He turned to look at her, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards as he did. Gamora supposed it wasn’t exactly the nicest thing to make judgments before he could defend himself, but he looked like more of a troublemaker than some of her worst students.

Mantis, on the other hand, was harder to guess; she looked to be around Gamora’s age or a little younger, with faintly-glowing antennae, mid-length hair, and unsettlingly large, dark eyes. There was a timidness to her demeanor as she kept her hands neatly folded in her lap, curling in on herself. She smiled shyly at Gamora as their eyes met, and Gamora returned it politely, secretly wondering how she would fare when it came to dealing with children.

“Alright, you two, this is Gamora. She’s our social studies teacher, but she subs in for Drax’s phys ed class when he’s off doin’...well, off doin’ who _knows_ what. Gamora’s the best teacher we got - dunno how we can afford her, honestly - so you let her show you how it’s done. And Mantis, I know you’re a damn angel and I ain’t worried about you, but Quill, if I hear any nonsense, I’m sendin’ you back to Stakar’s Ravagers and - ”

“And they’ll eat me, I got it!” Peter interrupted loudly, rolling his eyes like a petulant teenager. Gamora looked at him disbelievingly, unsure of whether she wanted to hear the story or not. He returned her gaze with a smirk. “So, we gettin’ the grand tour?”

Gritting her teeth, Gamora got to her feet and gestured stiffly towards the door. “After you.”

* * *

“I believe that’s everything,” Gamora said, bringing the three of them to a stop in front of the back entrance by the gym. “Any questions, concerns?”

Peter and Mantis exchanged glances that Gamora couldn’t quite decipher. Though they didn’t look biologically related - not fully, at least - she suspected they were very close. “When’s lunch?” Peter finally said with a wide grin. Mantis playfully elbowed him in the ribs.

“Peter,” she chastised, turning to smile sunnily at Gamora. “If you have some time, I would love some feedback on my lesson plans. I only got my teaching degree last year, so your expertise would be _so_ helpful.”

Gamora internally sighed in relief. At least _someone_ was taking their job seriously. “Of course. If you come to my room, we can look it over while my students are working.”

Mantis reached out to squeeze her arm in gratitude, startling Gamora somewhat. “Thank you!” she beamed. “And what will you be doing, Peter?”

Peter shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe I’ll go tune the guitars or sniff around the storage closet or somethin’. Or maybe I’ll go talk to the media teacher again, she seemed nice.”

“You leave Bereet alone,” Gamora scolded, patting Mantis awkwardly in return. “Come on, let’s go.”

After Gamora introduced her lesson to her students for the day, she sent them to the library to use the computers under the librarian’s supervision, leaving her and Mantis alone in her classroom. She didn’t seem nearly as withdrawn as she had before, instead coming across as rather curious and excitable, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over every word of advice Gamora had to offer.

“I suppose you think Peter and I are a bit...strange. Yondu does not always treat us like the adults that we are,” Mantis said bitterly after they’d finished going over her lesson plan. “We are both qualified to teach, it’s just...Peter especially has been having a very difficult year. He has been acting out a lot because of it, and I want to help him, I just do not know how. Please do not think poorly of us.”

“Honestly, Yondu never mentioned you before today,” Gamora admitted. “And I understand. We’ve all had struggles, moments in our lives where we aren’t at our best. I don't fault either of you.”

Mantis smiled ruefully. “I guess I should not be surprised that Yondu has never talked about us before. He thought he was going to lose us.” Gamora looked at her inquisitively. “We met our biological father a few months ago. He seemed so charismatic...and kind...and charitable. Yondu was worried that we were going to go live with him instead. But…I will spare you the details, but it did not turn out well for anyone involved. So we moved back here to be close to Yondu again.”

Gamora nodded silently, unsure of what to say. Whatever the story was, she was surprised that Mantis was telling her such personal details when they had only met an hour ago. Was she seeking a healthy work relationship or actual friendship? The mere concept of friendship made Gamora uncomfortable; she’d had people come and go in her life in ways that left her a little more broken every single time. Her one constant was her sister, and even _that_ relationship was more tumultuous than anything else.

“Enough about me, though,” Mantis continued, waving herself off. “Tell me about you!”

“There’s not much to tell,” Gamora said carefully. “I have a sister, both of us were adopted. We share a house not too far from here.”

“Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” Mantis persisted.

Gamora swallowed. “No, I don’t...I don’t really have the time.” Her breath shook a little as she abruptly got to her feet. “I should go see how my students are doing, but I hope my advice was useful. Come back if you have any more questions about teaching, okay?”

Mantis’s face fell a little; Gamora’s rebuttal was polite, but the intent was clear. “Okay,” she said, her voice small, and she also stood, though reluctantly. “I guess I will see you around.” Gamora nodded sharply, watching as Mantis practically tiptoed her way out and shut the door behind her.

After her students returned from the library, another few hours went by before Gamora was alone again, with her students scattered across the school in the cafeteria and the playground. She was eating quick bites of her lunch between marking tests when she was startled by the sound of someone knocking on her door frame. Her head shot up in surprise. “Peter. Can I help you?”

“You weren’t in the teacher’s lounge, figured I might find you in here instead,” Peter said, smiling easily. He strolled in, hands in his pockets, peering around the room in mild curiosity.

“You were... _looking_ for me?” Gamora said dubiously.

“Well, sure. Could use a friendly face since me n’ Mantis don’t know anyone else.” He paused. “Wait, are you _marking_ stuff? Isn’t it only the second week of class?”

“Which gives them plenty of time to learn something new _and_ review material from last year,” Gamora replied. “Retention, revision, and discipline. That’s how I run my classroom, that’s how I live my life.”

“They’re _kids_ ,” Peter exclaimed incredulously. “Hell, when I was that age, I was lucky if I could pay attention long enough to write my own name.”

“Then you don’t think very highly of their intelligence,” Gamora countered with a frown.

“No, I think kids are plenty smart, I just _know_ they get bored. I mean, how much use is learnin’ about - ” He ducked in behind her to read over her shoulder, skimming the text. “ - the invasion of Moord, anyways? How’s _that_ gonna help ‘em when they’re older?”

“I don’t see how music is supposed to help, either,” Gamora said. She was getting more irritated by the second.

Peter’s brow furrowed. “Hey, music and art were _my_ favorite classes, especially when I was livin’ back on Terra. Don’t knock it ‘til you tried it.” He reached for the device on his belt, unhooking it from its clip. “Here, let me - ”

“I think I’ll pass,” Gamora said shortly, finally looking up to stare him dead in the eye.

He paused, hands hovering halfway in the air. The brightness in his eyes suddenly vanished, like a fuse had been blown out, and he hooked the device back onto his belt with a harsh _snap_. “Right. Okay, I see how it is. I can take a hint.” Peter turned and walked out without another word, and despite Gamora wanting him to leave her be, she also felt guilty, like she’d personally wronged him. She almost wanted to follow him out into the hallway, but her duty to mark the rest of her tests proved too strong, and she eventually turned back to her stack of papers. There would be time to talk later.

* * *

Unintentionally, “later” soon became seemingly “never”. A week passed, then another. What had started off as Gamora just wanting to keep her distance - after all, the only teacher she interacted with for more than five minutes at a time was Drax, and even then, their conversations were kept short and sweet - turned into far more trouble than she could have anticipated.

“I have a question, Miss Gamora,” one of her students said, raising his hand.

She turned away from the board to look at him. “What is it, Visan?”

“Why don’t you like Mister Peter and Miss Mantis?” Visan asked.

Gamora paused. “That’s inappropriate for you to ask.”

“But I asked ‘em if they liked it here and if they made any friends yet, an’ they said they tried to be _your_ friend, but you didn’t wanna,” Visan persisted. The other students nodded in agreement, clearly having heard the same thing.

Gamora narrowed her eyes, scowling. Apparently, Peter and Mantis had a taste for sharing every thought and every memory with everyone that crossed their paths. She was half-tempted to go to Yondu and mention their unprofessional conduct, if not for the fact Yondu obviously wouldn’t do anything about it. “Enough, Visan. You’re staying after school with me for fifteen minutes so you can think about what you’ve done wrong. If you continue to pursue the topic or distract the rest of your classmates from my lesson...I’m calling your parents.” Visan shriveled in his seat with a defiant grumble. The others looked mildly disappointed that she hadn’t answered.

Things only grew worse as the first month of the school year continued on, much to Gamora’s chagrin. She would run into them in the teacher’s lounge every morning and afternoon at the minimum, encounter them in the hallways on a daily basis, and sit across from them during every meeting, mostly because she had no other choice. The siblings weren’t openly hostile, no, they weren’t _that_ kind of childish, but there was a tension in their physicality, their conversation, that suggested they were still upset. Even Yondu commented on it after a meeting in which they barely said a dozen words between the two of them, wondering aloud why his children were acting so strange.

“They didn’t say why?” Gamora had asked hesitantly.

Yondu had scoffed. “You kiddin’ me? They may be grown-ass adults, but they _still_ don’t tell me nothing.”

Peter and Mantis seemed immensely put out by the fact Gamora didn’t want friendship, and she couldn’t fathom why. Gamora never thought of herself as particularly interesting or inviting or even remotely likable; she wasn’t the kind of person that other people wanted to invest their time and energy in, not with her short temper and blunt nature. Her life, after the tragedy and trauma that shaped her entire upbringing, was now lived in simple solitude. She had no time for close relationships, barely being able to hold on to the only one she had - her sister. Still, something told her she’d offended them both far more than she realized, and for the sake of her work environment and her conscience, she knew she had to fix it.

On the Monday morning of the fifth week, when the wind was beginning to pick up and the leaves were starting to drift down, Gamora woke a little earlier than usual so she could drop by the local cafe on her way to work. She ordered the most saccharine, sugar-filled drink on their menu, the kind that made her gag a little just thinking about it, and deposited it neatly onto Mantis’s desk when she arrived.

Mantis looked up, startled by the sound of the cup hitting her desk. “Gamora?” she said confusedly.

“I was harsh, and rude, and unnecessarily dismissive of you. I wish to make peace...and apologize.” Gamora folded her arms tightly across her chest, feeling uncomfortable. She didn’t do this very often. “And...I also apologize if it seemed personal. I’m just not good with people, the way that you and Peter clearly are. So if we can start over, put all of this behind us...I would appreciate that courtesy. Even if I don’t deserve it.”

Mantis softened, reaching across the desk as if to take Gamora’s hand. “I would like that, too. But I think you are wrong about one thing.”

“...what?”

“Not deserving it, of course,” Mantis smiled. “Your faults do not make you less deserving of forgiveness, of friendship. I can tell you are a kind person, even if it is not always obvious. You were a very good tour guide, you helped me revise my lessons…”

“That was out of professional courtesy, I don’t - ” Gamora began.

“Yondu told us a lot about you before we came here. He said you were the kind of person worth having on your side, even if it takes some effort to get there. And Peter and I, we aren’t quitters.” Mantis grinned, taking her first sip of the drink. Her antennae brightened with joy. “Oh, how did you know this was my favorite?”

“I didn’t realize Yondu thought that of me,” Gamora said slowly. In fact, she didn’t realize Yondu thought much of her at all. They weren’t close - obviously, considering she didn’t know he had children until a month ago - and she never got the impression he paid much attention to her. They had their friendly chats, but as far as she knew, that was it.

“We will not push you if it makes you uncomfortable. Well, I promise _I_ won’t. Peter is very stubborn, and I suspect that you are, too,” Mantis continued with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But I do like making friends. I like people. They are very interesting to me, especially when I can feel their feelings. Art is how I make sense of everyone’s emotions.” She gestured at the canvases that hung on the wall behind her desk, smatterings of paints and charcoals and mixed mediums that seemed far too abstract for Gamora to properly digest.

She was hardly paying attention to the artwork, though, instead taking a cautionary step back. “You read minds?”

“No...I read feelings,” Mantis repeated patiently. “You are nervous about my powers. And you are worried that I will use them against you. I promise, I will not. Growing up with Peter, I never did, even when I _really_ wanted to, unless I could feel him hurting. Then I would help him fix that hurt. Otherwise, they are just...there. Emotions feel like conversations that we hear but do not really pay attention to. I will only pay attention if there is something wrong.”

Gamora still felt uneasy. “And Peter...does he have abilities as well?”

“No, not since - well, I will let him tell that story, if he wants to,” Mantis replied mysteriously. “Are you going to talk to him?”

“I _would_ like to make peace with him as well, but I think he’ll be more difficult to appeal to,” Gamora admitted.

“He offered for you to listen to his music, right? Ask him about that,” Mantis suggested. “Oh, it would make him so happy. There is nothing that he enjoys more than a good song.” Her shoulders sank a little. “It is why your rejection upset him so much. If you at least give it a try, I think he will be back to his old self again.”

Gamora swallowed, nodding almost regretfully. At this point, there was hardly any goodwill left to lose.

Later that day during her free period, instead of organizing and marking homework, Gamora reluctantly made her way down the hall to a room she had never really stepped foot in - the music room. It was larger than pretty much every other room in the building (aside from the gymnasium), with soundproof walls and vast storage closets that housed instruments and equipment. There was no traditional teacher’s desk, just a whiteboard and a chair turned towards the rest of the room, a chair that Peter was currently occupying. His students were sat on the floor, looking up at him, their eyes wide and unusually attentive.

“I wanna start today’s class with a story, hope you guys don’t mind. My dad always said I liked hearin’ the sound of my own voice, so maybe this is more for me than for you,” Peter added with a self-deprecating chuckle. The class laughed in response. “So far, we’ve done warm-ups, music theory, talked a little bit about what we’re gonna be learning this year. But I realized, we’ve gone an entire month without you knowing much about _me_ or why I teach music. So, let me share a bit about myself, and if you wanna share stories, too, then go for it. Don’t hafta, though, I know forced participation is kind of the worst.” More laughter. Gamora was becoming increasingly impressed, settling in against the doorway in hopes that he wouldn’t notice her prematurely, not wanting to interrupt.

“I’m sure some of you are wonderin’ where I’m from. Well, I’m from Terra, a planet pretty far from here that don’t really know that the rest of the universe even exists. I grew up in a small house, just me and my mom. She died when I was a kid, but I still think about her all the time. And there were two things she loved more than _anything_ else in the entire world - family and music.”

“She gave me this when I was about five years old. Been carrying it ever since.” Peter unhooked the device on his hip, unraveling the headphones and holding it up so everyone could see. “It’s a Walkman. It plays music on these things called cassette tapes. Kinda old-fashioned, but it’s my favorite way to listen to music. My mom would have the radio on all the time, and when she didn’t, she’d be wearing this. _Completely_ absorb herself in sound. And when I was old enough to understand the words, she started letting me listen, too. She would teach me all the lyrics, twirl me around the kitchen, sing at the top of her lungs until the neighbors came knockin’ at our door. Her dad - my grandpa - he would come around for dinner sometimes, tell me stories about what she was like as a little girl. Said she could never sit still. Said I was just the same as her.”

He smiled, a melancholic expression crossing his face. “Anyways, my mom taught me how to love music, how to connect to every word and every beat. She taught me a lot of great life lessons, too. So I wanna take all that stuff and share it with you. Not just the stuff about music, but y’know, things like how to be a good friend. How to help someone when they feel sad. How to take care of yourself when _you_ don’t feel so good, either. Sound like a plan?”

“Yes, Mister Peter,” the kids chimed in perfect unison, with a confidence that Gamora rarely heard otherwise. It was then that he glanced her way. His expression darkened.

“Alright, I know we just started, but it looks like I’m in trouble with Miss Gamora,” Peter said with a forced chuckle, though the kids continued to laugh along. “Go set up, I’ll be back in a minute. No running, okay?” He went to join Gamora by the door, folding his arms stiffly across his chest. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Gamora blinked. “...woods?”

Peter sighed. “Terran saying, never mind. What do you want?”

She internally winced at the hostility in his voice, a far cry from his jovial tone from just moments ago. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior on your first day here...make amends. You were looking for someone to befriend, and even though I shouldn’t be that person, I could have been far kinder about it. I know I’m far better at turning people away than letting them in. I know that’s no excuse, but sometimes, I forget my sensitivities, my experiences...they aren’t like everyone else’s.”

“I’m gonna get back to that last part in a sec...but ‘shouldn’t be that person’?” Peter quoted in confusion. “What’s _that_ s’posed to mean?”

“I’m no one’s friend, Peter,” Gamora shrugged. “It’s not a point of pride, nor am I asking for pity, I just...it’s not important to me.”

Despite her words, his eyes still softened with sympathy, his arms falling loose by his side. “Mantis mentioned you had a sister. I mean, aren’t you at least friends with her? You live together, right?”

“It’s an arrangement of convenience, not love,” Gamora replied. “My relationship with everyone here is strictly professional. I’d like to keep it that way. It’s no personal commentary on you, just the way things have always been for me.”

Peter let out a reluctant sigh, his gaze going back to his students for a moment. “Fine. And thanks for coming here, apologizing. Mantis says I get kinda sensitive sometimes when people don’t like me, ‘cos, well, _everyone_ likes me.” He shook his head with a grin, scoffing at himself. “Man, no wonder you don’t want me around. I sound like a dick.”

Gamora bit back the urge to snort, finding him strangely endearing and infuriating at the same time. “I’m sure the two of you will find friends. But if you need professional advice, you know where to find me.” She straightened up, preparing to leave. “Oh, and that story about your mother...it was really sweet. But you also mentioned your father?”

Peter turned back to look at her, a warm, peaceful smile on his face. “Yondu. When I said my dad, I meant Yondu.”

She nodded slowly, finding herself returning the smile without meaning to. “I’ll see you later, Peter Quill.”

* * *

As the semester went on, the weather grew colder, crisper, with a bite that left even Gamora’s regulated body temperature feeling frosty. The school year always started off slow, growing more and more lethargic the more it rained. Students dragged their feet, yawned loudly, slumped against their desks like they were seconds away from drifting off. Gamora supposed she couldn’t blame them, considering academic subjects weren’t always the most engaging. However, if they were coming from Peter or Mantis’s classes, they always seemed far more excitable, more energetic. As much as she wanted to be jealous, she was more impressed by their talent for teaching than anything else.

After Gamora had made peace, there was a genuine warmth that returned to their demeanor that was almost seductive. They were both charismatic in their own ways - Peter with his smooth talk, his twinkling eyes, his easy-going nature, and Mantis’s bright smile, positive energy, and empathic inclinations. The other teachers were easily charmed by them, and Gamora often found everyone gathered in the teacher’s lounge together, laughing at one of Peter’s anecdotes or moved by Mantis’s kindness. Her mind told her to keep her distance, but her heart longed to get closer.

“You are angry,” Mantis commented one morning when Gamora struggled her way into the room, unwinding her thick scarf from around her neck, stomping her boots against the mat to shake the mud off the bottom with more vigor than necessary.

“Must be a day that ends in ‘y’,” Peter teased from where he was stood, leaning against the counter beside the coffee maker, a fresh mug in hand. “You okay, Gamora?”

“I’m not discussing this with either of you,” she snapped, flinging her coat and scarf onto the communal rack. “Do you _ever_ mind your own business?”

Unlike before, however, they didn’t seem bothered by her bite. “Something is on your mind,” Mantis continued. “Is it a student? Or another teacher? If you tell me who it is, maybe I can - ”

“It’s my sister. It’s _always_ my sister,” Gamora interrupted, glaring daggers at them both. “Save your breath, both of you. That’s as much as I’ll tell anybody.”

Peter and Mantis exchanged dubious looks. “Fine. Sorry for wanting to help,” Peter drawled.

Gamora laughed darkly, bracing her hands on her hips. “How could _you_ possibly help?”

“We know a thing or two about sibling rivalries,” Peter offered. “And we’re both pretty good mediators. Hell, just last week when Xoni was flingin’ spitballs at - ”

“This is no typical familial spat, believe me. And there is nothing _anyone_ can do to make it right.” Gamora poured herself a cup and took a long swig - Peter and Mantis winced, considering it was still steaming hot - before storming out of the room with a huff, not unlike a petulant child.

“No, Peter,” Mantis warned the moment the door slammed shut.

Peter held up his hands defensively. “I didn’t say nothin’!”

“You did not have to _say_ anything,” Mantis said, grinning. “You want to _do_ something.”

“Hey, I can’t help it,” Peter laughed. “She’s...really somethin’. And you know me.”

“You intend to pursue Gamora romantically?” They jumped at Drax’s sudden presence, lurking at Peter’s shoulder. His steely-eyed gaze was far too intense for 8 AM on a Monday, and his usual lack of shirt was just unsettling. After Gamora’s initial rejection, the two of them had gravitated towards Drax, but still, he was just the slightest bit too intimidating for their taste.

“Dude, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Peter accused, clutching at his chest in a futile attempt to get his pulse to stop racing. “And no, I just thought she could use a friend. Someone that isn’t her sister. ‘Cos they’ve clearly got issues, and she’s got no one to talk to about it.”

“Gamora is not one to befriend,” Drax said gravely. “She has been here for five years now, and I have never seen her grow close to anyone. I am the closest thing she has to a friend, and still, I doubt she cares to hear stories of my family, of my past. You waste your breath on her, Quill.”

“Why is she a teacher if she does not like people very much?” Mantis asked.

“Her story is not mine to tell,” Drax shrugged. “Your pursuits of her companionship fall on deaf ears. And Quill, I seriously doubt you interest her in any way. _Especially_ not romantically.”

Peter shook his head amusedly. “Thanks, man. That was really helpful.”

Drax nodded. “You’re welcome.”

Mantis was not one to be deterred, however, and after yet another week had passed, she practically skipped into Gamora’s classroom with a sort of glow that had nothing to do with her antennae, brandishing a perfectly hand-lettered card with a flourish. “Before you say no - ”

“I don’t even know what I’m saying ‘no’ to,” Gamora retorted, opening the card. She quickly flipped it shut. “No.”

“I told you not to say that,” Mantis complained. “Peter wanted to have a big party, but I said it should just be a small housewarming event for the new people in our lives. You can bring your sister if you want.”

“I don’t,” Gamora said shortly. “I thought I made myself clear, Mantis. To both of you.”

“You did, until I started finding _these_ on my desk every morning,” Mantis said, holding up her sugary coffee cup in triumph. “And Peter said he found a package in his mail slot yesterday, filled with cassette tapes.”

“I thought I would get something for you while I was there for myself...and I happened to be on an auction site,” Gamora said, wincing a little as she spoke. She couldn’t even convince _herself_ that she was telling the truth.

“There is no coffee on _your_ desk,” Mantis said, blinking innocently, a stark contrast to the almost maniacal grin on her face. “I do not need to use my powers to understand what you are doing, Gamora. Will you at least consider it? I will not be mad if you don’t come, but...I think you might want to after all.”

Gamora sighed. “I’ll think about it. But I am _not_ bringing my sister.”

* * *

“Why am I here?” Nebula droned, her inky black eyes fixated on the front door, almost like she was intent on burning a hole through it.

“The other option was to leave you at home to rot away in the shadows,” Gamora retorted, internally debating whether to knock or just turn around and pretend she never bothered. “Would you rather die a slow death or a meaningful one?”

“Are you offering to kill me, then? I thought we were beyond that,” Nebula said darkly.

“Don’t joke about that, Nebula,” Gamora scolded. “I still have mixed feelings about being here. But...I also think I’ve spent far too long shutting myself away. Repressing everything that’s happened to us. Maybe a silly dinner party is the kind of normality I need in my life, the kind of boundaries I need to push. This could be the path to peace.”

“Normality will never suit us, and peace will elude us forever,” Nebula said quietly, turning to fix her uncomfortably dead-eyed gaze on Gamora’s profile. “We were primed to live extraordinary lives.”

“I wouldn’t describe our upbringing as ‘extraordinary’. Unimaginable, maybe.” Gamora shuddered. “Maybe we shouldn’t be here after all, we should - ”

“Been standin’ there long enough!” They both startled as the door suddenly swung open to reveal Peter and his usual half-smirk, a sight Gamora had already grown accustomed to. “Glad you could make it, Gamora. And you must be Nebula, it’s nice to put a face to a name.”

“Why?” Nebula snapped.

Peter blinked, taken aback. “Well, I, uh - ”

“Ignore her. I know I do,” Gamora interrupted, glaring at her sister. “I understand that the custom for a housewarming party is to bring a decorative gift, so...here.” She stiffly held out an alien potted plant. Peter, still somewhat confused, took it from her with an uncertain smile.

“Hey, thanks. Come on in,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing for them to follow suit.

As Gamora and Nebula went inside, shedding their coats, Gamora took a moment to look around. It was pretty much like every other home on Xandar, boasting sleek modern architecture and vast stretches of glass and steel, but the furniture was cozier, more homely. The open floor plan gave her a quick glimpse of both the old-fashioned tweed couches in the living room and the classic wood cabinets in the kitchen, eclectic paintings and wall decor scattered around rather haphazardly. She could see touches of Peter’s old-school taste and Mantis’s feminine leanings in every single piece. They had barely been here for two months, and their house already felt like a home, distinctly different from the sparseness of Gamora and Nebula’s place where they’d been for years.

“Hello!” Mantis came striding their way from the kitchen with glasses of Majesdanian wine in hand. “I am so happy you are here tonight, Gamora - and you too, Nebula! It is _so_ good to meet you. I would say that Gamora has told me all about you, but that would be a lie. So I hope we can all get to know each other better!” She beamed sunnily.

“Oh god,” Nebula muttered under her breath, snatching up the wine glass and stalking off without another word.

Mantis didn’t seem too bothered, though, instead turning to Gamora. “Come join me in the kitchen?” she requested, though Gamora suspected it wasn’t really optional and followed her further into the house. She caught a quick glimpse of Peter entertaining the other guests in the living room, mostly other teachers, but also a few faces she didn’t recognize. He waved at her when he noticed her looking, and she quickly turned away instead of waving back, her face growing warm in mild embarrassment.  “You know, even for the few moments I was in her presence, I could sense Nebula’s deep-seated anger. Are you two still fighting?”

“Our fight started the moment we met,” Gamora said quietly, taking a seat at the kitchen island. “And not once, did I ever think it was over.”

“You said you were both adopted,” Mantis continued, resuming her cooking at the stove. “Did your parents know that you did not get along?”

 _Our one ‘parent’ made sure of that_ , Gamora thought bitterly. “They were aware. Nothing was done about it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mantis murmured. “But she came with you tonight. That is a good sign, right?”

Gamora nodded, chewing thoughtfully on her lip. “I guess so. She doesn’t leave our house most days. She doesn’t work or go to school, doesn’t cook or clean. Honestly, I don’t know how I convinced her - or myself, really - to come here.”

“I am glad you did,” Mantis smiled. “But...what _does_ she do, then?”

“Despite living together, I can’t say we know the intimate details of each other’s lives. We don’t pretend to understand.” Gamora shuffled awkwardly in her seat, wondering if it was Mantis’s powers that compelled her to speak so freely, or if the Majesdanian wine was stronger than she thought. “You and Peter seem to have a strong bond.”

“We do,” Mantis said, brightening. “I am very grateful to have grown up with him. He is my best friend in the whole world, and I could not imagine my childhood without his presence. I am guessing you do not feel the same way about Nebula.”

“I would say our circumstances shaped us more than our relationship,” Gamora said carefully. “And how did Yondu come to find you two?”

“I was only a baby when Yondu found me. I was orphaned and completely alone on my home planet,” Mantis said thoughtfully. “We found Peter when I was six and he was eight. At first, we did not understand what was so special about us, and why all these other children that Yondu found would not stay with us and become part of our family. It seemed especially strange that Yondu gave up his life as a Ravager captain to take care of us.”

“I didn’t know he was a Ravager,” Gamora commented, surprised. “That...would explain quite a bit, actually.”

“Yes, after Peter had been with us for six months, he realized it was not a very good environment to raise us in, so he turned in his badge, gave up his ship, and bought a home on Xandar,” Mantis continued. “We got a very good education here. After I graduated with my teaching degree last year, we decided to ask Yondu about our pasts one more time. That is when we went looking for our father.” Her smile became strangely bitter. “You can ask Peter about that part. I do not like thinking about it very much.”

“There are things from my past I don’t like to think about, either,” Gamora offered tentatively. There was something inherently uncomfortable about seeing Mantis so upset, so much so that Gamora _actually_ wanted to fix it. “My entire life, I’ve gone back and forth between wanting to face it head on until it hurts, or wanting to turn around and run away until it catches up with me. And I’ve learned there _is_ no one perfect solution. Just perseverance, and strength.”

“Oh,” Mantis breathed softly, tilting her head in consideration. “I like that very much. I should try to think of it like that instead.” She reached across the counter to pat Gamora’s hand. “Thank you.”

Gamora shot her an awkward, but genuine smile in return, making no move to pull her hand away. “Of course.”

* * *

“Need some fresh air?” Dinner was over after some pleasant conversation - not a hardship for Peter, of course - and now more drinks were going around, but Gamora found herself lingering by the back patio door instead, sans wine, gazing out mindlessly at the neatly trimmed grass and perfectly shaped hedges in their backyard. She turned at the sound of Peter’s voice, surprised to see he was alone for the first time since he’d greeted her at the door. “I’ve got a better spot than that. C’mon, follow me!”

Gamora was beginning to get the feeling that Peter and Mantis were used to getting their way as she followed him upstairs through another glass door from the landing, out onto the balcony that stretched over the entire width of the backyard. The view she was rewarded with consisted of a large stretch of typical suburban lawns filled with leafless trees and slowly-wilting flowers, though she imagined it was much prettier in the springtime. Since Xandar wasn’t known for its greenery - its _lack_ of it, more like - she could appreciate the rare sight. “This is a nice neighborhood,” Gamora said, her hands coming to rest on the railing while Peter closed the door behind them. “Nebula and I, we live in the heart of the city. We have easy access to everything we need, but our view is nothing but skyscrapers that obscure the stars.”

“Isn’t it expensive there?” Peter asked. He leaned against the railing to face her, though Gamora kept her gaze away from him.

Gamora glanced down at her hands, fixating on the rings that adorned her fingers. Something about her honesty with Mantis earlier made her feel as if she needed to extend the same privilege to Peter, to thank them for their kindness and patience somehow. “We receive compensation payments from the Nova Corps.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. “Oh. Do you, uh, do you mind me askin’ what for?”

She rocked back on her heels a little, wondering where to start. Maybe just the ending would do. “We were twelve years old when they found us. Half-starved, covered in blood that wasn’t ours. We’d been on the run for three months, sneaking onto other people’s ships in the hopes we’d eventually stumble across a kind soul who would protect us. Most of the times, we were kicked out instead. Other times, we were beaten first. After we woke up in Xandar Prime Hospital, the doctors told us we had been about fifteen hours away from death, if not for their intervention.”

Bile began to rise in Peter’s throat, burning him inside, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. “Did...what were you running from?”

“From the people who work for the man we killed.” Gamora tapped her fingernails against the railing in a militant-like pattern. “The man we called ‘Father’ for six years. Thanos.” He nodded for her to continue, speechless. “He took us from our homes, killed our parents in front of us. Forced us to fight each other, to fight the other children he collected, to _kill_ them. He took us apart, put us back together again, only we were never quite...whole. We were to be warriors. Assassins. Cold and ruthless and unfeeling.”

Peter swallowed. “Man, I...I’m really sorry, Gamora. I dunno what else to say, but...I’m sorry.”

“It’s all in the past now. For me, at least. Nebula…” She trailed off, shaking her head. It was far more detail than she’d intended to give in the first place. “Mantis said you had a story of your own. One about your father.”

“No, you don’t wanna hear about that, it’s not even - ”

“Actually...I do,” Gamora interrupted, surprising herself at how much she was speaking the truth.

He smiled. “Okay, well, Yondu took Mantis in when she was a baby, and me when I was eight years old, literally minutes after my mom died. We used to ask him all the time about how he found us and why he kept us, but he never answered. It wasn’t until Mantis graduated last year that he finally decided he was ready to tell us. Or, maybe, that we were ready to hear it. He told us we actually had the same dad, who hired him years ago to find his kids and bring them to his planet. And it made so much sense - Yondu used to pick up orphan kids all the time, bring ‘em to shelters and stuff, but we never really knew why. Then, we asked why he never brought any kids to our dad, and he said, ‘your daddy’s a jackass who knocked up all them women _just_ so he could have a protege, ‘cos he’s a Celestial, y’know. Wants to spread the gene’.”

“So that makes you half-Celestial?” she asked.

He nodded, sighing. “Yeah. And I guess I still had some teenage rebellion left in me, so I got real mad at Yondu for not telling us after all these years. Me n’ Mantis packed our bags and took off to meet our dad. He was kind of...cool, at first. A little weird, maybe, but couldn’t blame the guy, he lived in complete isolation for his entire existence. He was more interested in Mantis ‘cos of her empathic powers, ignored me a little. Then he started showing me what _I_ was capable of, these matter-manipulating abilities, I could fly and form light and - it all seemed so...seductive. With that kind of power, it felt like all my problems didn’t matter anymore, y’know? But then he told me I was immortal. And Mantis wasn’t. That the gene skipped over her or somethin’, that her powers actually came from her mom, not him.”

“And then?”

“I told him I didn’t want to live forever, not in a world where Mantis and Yondu couldn’t. I asked if there was a way I could give up my immortality. He said I would have to give up _all_ my Celestial powers. So...I asked again. He didn’t like that.” He cleared his throat sharply, eyes watering somewhat. “I’m not gonna tell you the messy details about what happened afterward, but he hurt us both. For _hours_. He believed that if he... _killed_ Mantis...that I would have no choice but to stay with him. ‘Achieve greatness together’, whatever the hell that means. I didn’t care. He was gonna kill my sister. So...we killed _him_ instead.”

“Peter…” Now Gamora was the one who found herself speechless.

“So we’ve got a _really_ specific thing in common,” Peter said, laughing wetly. “Who knew?”

“Who knew,” she echoed, finally turning to fully face him. There was a bittersweet sadness on his face, and she briefly wondered if it was for the loss of his abilities, the loss of his father, or maybe just the loss of what could have been. Her eyes then went to the Walkman. “I meant to ask you about that before, when I came to apologize to you that day.”

“Do you wanna listen?” He perked up instantly, looking hopeful. Gamora involuntarily felt her heart beat just a little bit faster.

“Yes,” she said decisively. He unraveled the headphones and carefully slotted them snugly over her ears, fingers brushing through her hair so it would lay flat against her shoulders. WIth a few clicks of the Walkman and a decisive hum from Peter, a song began to play.

_Stuck on you...I've got this feeling down deep in my soul that I just can't lose...guess I'm on my way..._

_Needed a friend...and the way I feel now I guess I'll be with you till the end..._

_Guess I'm on my way...mighty glad you stayed..._

“The melody is pleasant,” Gamora commented thoughtfully as the song began to wind down. “I’m not much of a music person, but...I actually liked that.”

“I can play another,” Peter offered, surprised when she nodded with a warm smile.

_I'm not talking 'bout movin' in...and I don't want to change your life..._

_But there's a warm wind blowing the stars around...and I'd really love to see you tonight..._

Peter spent the next few minutes just watching her in blissful silence, aside from the rustling of the wind through the trees. Her eyes were softly closed, allowing her to listen deeply, to let the sensation of every note wash over her, envelop her in a feeling, a moment. Mantis had been teasing him pretty much since the moment he and Gamora met, but he honestly, truly liked her. Whether romantically or platonically...well, he did find her beautiful, with her dark eyes, gorgeous hair, and the stark contrast of her soft, feminine facial features against her sharp, angular face. But she was also clever, strong-headed, and surprisingly witty, with a sort of unusual but endearing charisma that he found himself really drawn into.

Either way, Peter wanted to be her friend. He wanted to snark with her about their students and the other teachers, swap stories about their pasts, listen to music and share moments just like this. It was genuinely shocking to him that she had warmed up to him so much over the course of one night, but he was a little worried that once they returned to work on Monday, she was going to become distant once more.

After a few more songs had passed, Gamora finally took the headphones off and handed them back to him, leaning against the railing to gaze out at the night sky again. “I’m sorry about your father. I can’t imagine spending my whole life dreaming of something so important, only to have everything I ever believed to come crashing down.” She snuck another glance in his direction. “But...you also made it sound like making the choice to give everything up was easy.”

“It _was_ easy. But you’re wrong about one thing,” Peter replied. “I _wasn’t_ giving everything up. Keeping my immortality and leaving my family behind, abandoning the world that I love, would be giving everything up. I’d be lonely...wanderin’ for eternity. Doing whatever crap my dad wanted me to do. Wishing I could be with Mantis, and Yondu, and my mom...that don’t sound like the kind of life I wanna be living.”

“So teaching, then? Is that what you intend to do for the rest of your life? And this might sound arrogant, coming from another teacher, but it’s an admirable profession. You seem to be good at it, too. Better than me.” Peter scoffed. “No, really. I misjudged you when we first met, made assumptions about your character. But you seem like an honest man and a good person, and you make education feel like it’s worth something to those children. I respect that.”

“Wow. That’s definitely the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he grinned, leaning beside her. “And um, I know you said you’re not a music person, but...I’d like your advice on my lesson plans, too. That stuff you said about retention, revision, and discipline, it really stuck with me. I could use a second pair of eyes.”

“Second pair of - ”

“Sorry, another Terran saying,” Peter chuckled sheepishly. “I just mean havin’ someone else look at it with a fresh perspective, and you seem like the right person for the job. Y’know, as a ‘professional courtesy’.”

Gamora looked at him curiously, tucking her hair behind her ear with a gentle smile. His breath hitched. “How about as a favor for a friend?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for another weirdly domestic Peter/Gamora AU, because I just can't help myself! I just really like picturing Peter as an elementary school teacher, which I've mentioned in at least two different fics from what I can remember, and the premise of their students trying to get them together was too cute to pass up. Also, I got to pre-kill Thanos for once, which was a nice change. This is a three-parter, so the next two parts will be posted on the last Friday of October and November, along with a couple prompt fills in between if you're interested in those as well!
> 
> The songs in this chapter are [Stuck On You](https://open.spotify.com/track/0vThqcPGmeaAisNIVZlvfL?si=1HcfRp8ZRZmkzWtw5dgw1w) by Lionel Richie and [I'd Really Love To See You Tonight](https://open.spotify.com/track/0ywn1mAGr0E8N5p32JwuHB?si=HRbAoTxKS6SjdBAUYKoC0Q) by England Dan & John Ford Coley. Thank you so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)


	2. Chapter 2

Mantis quirked an eyebrow at the sights and sounds of her brother practically skipping into the kitchen, whistling cheerfully. “You seem to be in a very good mood this morning. Does it have anything to do with last night’s party?”

“You know I like to entertain,” Peter grinned, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee and leaning against the kitchen counter. “You enjoy yourself?”

“Of course. But I want to talk more about _you_ ,” Mantis said slyly. “You spent over an hour with Gamora on the balcony. I saw you go upstairs with her, you know. At first, I thought it was for something else, but I did not think she would - ”

“Mantis!” Peter exclaimed, mildly scandalized. “I would never - ” she made a face “ - yeah, okay, you have a point. But no, it’s not like that.”

“Except I have never seen you grow so attached to someone so quickly before,” Mantis shrugged. “And you feel...excited. Like you are anticipating something.”

“She offered to look over my lesson plan when we go back to work on Monday,” Peter replied innocently. “C’mon now, I don’t got ulterior motives.”

“But you _do_ like her,” Mantis insisted, tapping her finger against her temple. “You can’t lie to me, Peter.”

“We just...we talked about a lot of stuff. Felt like we both really needed a new perspective.” He smiled, shaking himself. “Anyways, what’re we doing today, other than cleaning all the crap people left around here?”

Come Monday morning, Peter was practically vibrating with nervous excitement as he approached Gamora’s classroom during his free period. He couldn’t help himself; there was something so inexplicably magnetic about her that made him crave her approval, her attention, not to mention the very strange and morbid thing they had in common, something that made him feel closer to her than he otherwise would. He could only hope that, in some small way, she reciprocated.

He knocked on her doorframe, peering inside the room where the kids were currently working quietly at their desks, poring over their textbooks. Many heads immediately shot up at the sound, and they all perked up at the sight of him. “Mister Peter!” several of them chorused happily.

“You’re bein’ nice to Miss Gamora, I hope,” Peter said half-sternly, wagging his finger at them. They burst into mischievous giggles.

“I’ve already given three detentions today,” Gamora said without looking up from her desk.

“It’s not even _noon_ ,” Peter said incredulously. “What’ve you kids been doing?”

Before any of them could respond, though, Gamora quickly stood and grabbed Peter by the wrist, yanking him out of the room. “Can we talk outside? _Please_?” A chorus of “ooh”s followed them out the door like they were doing something particularly scandalous.

Once they were in the hall, Peter furrowed his brow at her in worry. “You said I could drop by, right? I didn’t imagine that?”

“They have detention for asking me about the party. Did you say something about me being at your house this weekend?” Gamora demanded, folding her arms across her chest.

“I - well, yeah, I passed some of ‘em in the hall, they asked me what I did this weekend and I told ‘em. All I said was that I had a housewarming thing and I invited the other teachers,” he protested.

“We still need to keep our distance professionally, Peter, we can’t just let these children know every intimate detail of our lives,” she said, groaning.

“I didn’t think telling a couple of kids that having the faculty over for dinner at our place was a big deal,” he replied. “It’s not like I told them about anything we talked about. I didn’t even mention you specifically!”

“Just...be careful, okay?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “There are still people out there, looking for me and Nebula. If the wrong person heard about us, puts the pieces together...the consequences could affect far more than just us.” She straightened up, brushing away nonexistent lint from her pants. “Besides, I’m fine with them thinking we’re friends, for the most part. But I don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea being…?” Peter smirked.

“Don’t bait me, Peter, it doesn’t work,” Gamora said cooly, though she gestured for him to follow her back inside. “Pull up a chair and I’ll look at your lesson plan.”

“You got it, Miss Gamora,” he said with a wink.

From then on, they had an amicable, if a little unpredictable friendship in the works as the semester progressed. Gamora was wholly unemotional at times, especially when they were at work. They would chat at a polite distance in the teacher’s lounge, have professional back-and-forths during meetings, and she was definitely most reserved whenever students were around, though for good reason. Peter could tell underneath her acerbic demeanor, she was still looking over her shoulder for someone or some _thing_ that could hurt her or her sister. At least Peter knew that he and Mantis, for the most part, were unambiguously safe.

When they were alone outside of work, which admittedly wasn’t very often, she seemed more relaxed, more prone to witticisms and biting remarks that made Peter laugh. Mantis helped, too, often inviting Gamora and Nebula over for dinner every now and then, preparing a hearty meal and indulgent dessert in contrast to their otherwise strict maintenance diets. Nebula would say practically nothing, even managed to wiggle her way out of joining them sometimes, but from what Peter could tell, it was real progress for her.

“Man, it’s really comin’ down hard out there,” Peter said one December morning as he trudged into the teacher’s lounge, shaking snow out of every crease in his coat and pants. “Surprised we still have to come into work. I bet half the school’s gonna be empty this week.”

“I’m sure most have already left on vacation,” Gamora replied, briefly glancing at him in greeting. “Mantis tells me you have plans for the students before we’re out for the year.”

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ of incorporating some Terran holidays around here, maybe see if there’s traditions from other cultures we could add to the school calendar.” He plucked the year-at-a-glance calendar from the bulletin board by the door and sat across from her, his eyes scanning over it intently. His feet went up on the table; she promptly swatted him away. “I mean, we don’t got much here other than sports games and career day. We gotta get these kids more involved.”

“They already detest the idea of being in school, we don’t need to prolong the experience,” she countered.

“Which is why we need to make it more fun,” he insisted. “Events, games, contests, whatever it takes. Something real memorable.”

She looked at him curiously. “Was your mother a teacher?”

He paused, lowering the calendar away from his face to look at her. “No, she was a nurse, why?”

“You’re just very...passionate about all this. Making school not just a place, but an experience,” she commented. “I just thought it might have come from her influence since you speak so fondly of her.”

“I guess she sorta does, in her own way. She used to invent all sorts of games to keep patients from thinkin’ about their problems, even for just a little while,” he smiled. “My mom was - or, _still_ is - the most important person in my life. I wanna honor the planet we lived on together, the place that _I_ came from. And we’ve got such a diverse student body here, all walks of life. It’d be a waste not to at least give ‘em a shot at feeling like they’re home, too.” He brightened. “What about yours?”

Gamora inhaled sharply. “Thanos...he didn’t just kill my parents. He destroyed the entire planet. Whatever is left of my culture remains in the records. I have no recollection of our traditions, personally. I was too young to hold on to them, too vulnerable and impressionable to remember.”

“Oh...geez, Gamora, I’m so sorry,” Peter said sadly, his shoulders slumping. “Mantis is sorta like that, too. She knows way more about Ravager culture than anything about her home planet. Hell, it always takes her a second just to remember its name. Me, I’m kind of a blend of both. Not the Celestial crap, but I got some of that Ravager blood at heart, y’know?”

“Roguish, unrefined, arrogant? I see it.” She smirked weakly over the rim of her coffee mug, still affected by her memories.

“Hey,” he chuckled. “Also, that reminds me - I never asked you about what happened after you got picked up by the Nova Corps.”

“This isn’t the time or place for that kind of discussion, Peter.” She got to her feet, moving to leave the room. He inwardly cursed himself for asking - though he’d mostly gotten used to conversations with her, it sometimes still felt like he was feeling around for an explosive, and didn’t have the foresight to know he’d gotten there until it was too late.

“Will you help me plan something, though?” he called after her, relieved to see her pause in the doorway. “Don’t have to be big, just somethin’ special. For the kids.”

She did a quarter-turn, her expression decidedly neutral. “Fine, as long as it doesn’t take too much of my time. I’m assuming you’ve recruited Mantis as well?”

“Gotta get the dream team together!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in celebration. “This is gonna be great, you’ll see.”

* * *

As expected, Mantis immediately went into a high-energy frenzy the moment Gamora mentioned Peter’s idea offhand during their lunch break, her eyes bugging out of her head almost comically at the word ‘party’. Gamora was mildly concerned she was about to burst a vein. “We will give them a winter break send-off they will never forget!” she had declared.

Gamora didn’t return home until late into the evening since Peter and Mantis managed to convince her to stay behind to talk about their ideas (and they were certainly full of them). She set the take-out bag on the kitchen table, glancing around curiously at the utter silence. “Nebula?” she called. “I brought dinner.”

“You’re late.” Nebula emerged from a shadowy corner in the sitting room, her head bowed.

Gamora frowned. “I texted you, didn’t I?”

“It was just an observation,” Nebula said defensively, plopping down into a chair without much grace. “You spend nearly every waking hour in their presence instead of leaving that place the moment you can. You seem to _actually_ like them.”

“They seem like honest people. We don’t get much of that, being who we are.” Gamora began pulling out cutlery from the kitchen drawer, pausing in realization of what Nebula was actually trying to get at. “Is there a problem?”

“You trust people far too easily, sister,” Nebula said, slouching back. “Someday, it will be too late.”

“And they say _I’m_ dramatic,” Gamora snorted, moving to join her sister at the table. “Do you feel I’ve been avoiding you in favor of their company? Is that what this is about?”

“Don’t bother psychoanalyzing me, you won’t find anything of interest,” Nebula drawled. “You know I’m content to be home by myself. I _prefer_ it.”

“So you’d rather live a life of complacency? That doesn’t sound like the sister I grew up with.” Gamora absentmindedly stirred her food, staring down at her plate without really wanting to eat; her appetite had rapidly declined. “I can tell you worry about me, about us. I worry about you, too.”

“Really? That’s a surprise to me,” Nebula said bitterly, stabbing her fork downwards, making an awful _scre-e-ech_ across the surface of her plate. “You either shadow my every move or leave me behind when it’s convenient. It’s about time you pick one.”

“Then I choose to be a good sister...maybe even a friend,” Gamora murmured. “I just want you to be happy, Nebula, and I don’t think you can be truly content until you’ve found your purpose.”

“My purpose was to kill for him. Then we killed _him_. There is nothing left for me. No purpose to fulfill, no master to serve. So just drop it,” Nebula hissed.

“I don’t believe that,” Gamora said, vehemently shaking her head. “I’m not saying you need to work, the Nova Corps compensate us generously for our troubles. But there has to be more than you just sitting in your room, day and night.”

“Just because you’ve decided to become a social creature, it doesn’t mean _I_ have to.” Nebula stood abruptly, snatching up her plate. “If you insist on continuing this inane conversation, I’m leaving.”

“Nebula - ” But she was already gone, stomping up the stairs with all the attitude and dramatics of a teenager who didn’t get her way. Gamora sighed, running her fingers agitatedly through her hair as she took her first bite of her now-cold dinner. It was an awful train of thought, but she couldn’t help but think that _this_ \- this back-and-forth, this animosity - was exactly why she spent more time away from home. No, not home. Just a house that they happened to live in.

She kept quiet about her issues with Nebula over the rest of the week while she, Peter, and Mantis continued to work on planning the festivities for the last school day before winter break. Then came Thursday night, and Gamora found herself sprawled across Peter and Mantis’s living room floor, a soft song crooning in the background while she painted some banners despite her lack of artistic ability. “How do I let you two keep talking me into these things?” she muttered, mostly to herself.

“We were just too charming and you couldn’t help yourself,” Peter said with a wink, walking in with a bowl of snacks. “Too bad Nebula didn’t wanna join in, we could use an extra set of hands.”

“Nebula doesn’t exactly...help.” Gamora hastily straightened up.

“You said she does not do much of anything.” Mantis entered the room next, also hauling an entire tray of food that made Gamora’s stomach hurt just thinking about it. “How does she not get bored all the time?”

“Boredom is a comfort for us. Boredom is far more preferable compared to what we’d suffered before,” Gamora said. She had told Mantis the story she’d told Peter not too long after their housewarming party. “You must have felt the same way after...your incident.”

“I suppose,” Mantis said quietly, sinking down beside her. “But I like to distract myself after bad things happen. Then I do not have to think about the bad thing as much. Then, eventually, I do not think about it at all.”

Gamora glanced at Peter, who merely shrugged. “Music does that for me,” he added. “It’s all I had when my mom was in the hospital, and it’s all I got left of her.”

“You have your memories,” Gamora suggested before she could stop herself. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” She gestured around the room at the multitude of decorations, activities, and the like they had prepared in anticipation of the following day.

“Yeah, but...I dunno. It’s not like it’s gonna bring her back.” Peter smiled tightly, getting to his feet. “I’m gonna go grab more stuff from my room.” Mantis’s gaze followed him worriedly up the stairs, turning back to Gamora with a melancholic smile on her face.

“It is so nice to have you here with us,” she said. “When we first met, I did not think we would come this far.”

“Neither did I.” Gamora picked at the lettering on the paintbrush, thinking back to her conversation with Nebula. “You were so persistent about it, I was...suspicious, almost. But now...I appreciate that about you both. Your tenacity.”

“We enjoy having you around,” Mantis said simply, though she smirked as she said it. “I think Peter is especially glad for it.”

“You’re both insinuating something that isn’t happening,” Gamora frowned, curling her legs up underneath her. “I know nothing of _his_ history, but I don’t care to. Not when mine isn’t exactly...happy.”

“Oh,” Mantis said, brow furrowing. “What happened?”

Gamora turned away fully to dip her brush into the clear glass of water, watching intently as the colors swirled about, washing out of the bristles. “Let’s get back to work.”

* * *

The kids whispered excitedly to one another as they filed into their respective classrooms after the first bell, the chattering growing increasingly louder and louder until Gamora had to scold them into respectful silence. It was hard to get too mad at their enthusiasm, though, since the school had been transformed into something unlike anything they’d seen before - there was a banner hung across the front doors proclaiming the building to be a winter wonderland, paper-cut snowflakes taped up in every windows and illuminated with string lights, the red-and-gold ribbons twisting their way along the walls and pinned to the perimeters of every bulletin board. There was garland framing every doorway, jazzy music crooning through the building’s audio system, and fake snow artfully placed on the floor of every hallway (something that Yondu wasn’t fond of, given the startled shout and subsequent undeserved lecture he gave the janitor upon his arrival that morning). Last but not least, every student was given a name tag sticker of a holly branch and a small candy packet, with a promise that there were even more surprises inside.

“What’s going on, Miss Gamora?” one of the students asked, bouncing up and down in his chair. “Are we havin’ a party?”

“Of a kind. Now sit down,” Gamora ordered.

Then Peter’s voice crackled in through the speakers, startling the children. “Can we have everyone come down to the gym right now? We’ve got an awesome surprise for you!” Almost immediately, the entire class jumped out of their seats and went sprinting for the door, Gamora’s shouts of protest falling on deaf ears. She silently cursed Peter - and herself for enabling him - before following her students, trying her best to keep the chaos to a minimum as everyone poured out of their classrooms and into the hallway.

When she entered the gymnasium, she spotted him at the far end from the entrance, her heart drumming a little faster in her chest. She was oddly nervous about the ordeal, having never done something so...involved before. By contrast, Peter looked like he was in his element, waving his arms enthusiastically, urging everyone to come closer.

The students oohed and ahhed over the sight before them - tables covered in spreads of breakfast foods from all kinds of cultures, ranging from Terran classics like eggs in a variety of styles and generously thick slabs of toast, to hearty stews, cold noodles, and everything else in between. By Peter, there were tall stacks of plates and trays of cutlery, waiting for everyone to dig in.

Gamora joined him to help supervise, knowing he wouldn’t reprimand children who cut or shoved in line the way she did. “How early did you get here?”

“You could say I haven’t slept,” Peter admitted with a far too casual laugh. “Go grab a plate, I got this.” She frowned at his dismissal, moving quickly to get herself some food before returning with a defiant glare. “Man, now you’re temptin’ me.”

“What?”

“The food. Why, what’d you think I was talking about?” She wanted to wipe the smug look off his face, but her hands were too full.

“Communal eating isn’t common in all cultures,” she commented instead, her gaze traveling across the gymnasium, watching students point out dishes they’d recognized to their classmates, sitting together in large groups to socialize. “But looking at this...you would never know it.”

“Was that something your family did?” he asked.

She smiled sadly. “Hunger was commonplace on my planet. It was considered impolite to gather around a table if only one person could eat that day. In my family, that person was usually me.”

“Oh.” Peter bowed his head, unsure of what to say. It always seemed to happen whenever Gamora became oddly self-reflective for someone who claimed to keep her cards close to her chest. “So your parents…”

“I was their only child. We didn’t have much of an extended family, so if we only had enough food for one person, it went to me. Sometimes I could still feel my belly ache afterward, my head spin, but there was no use in complaining. I was grateful that they did such a thing, regardless.” She swallowed. “There are some students who still experience that now, you know. Maybe...we could make communal breakfast a permanent installation here.”

“We should,” Peter nodded, his eyes following one particularly gaunt-looking boy who was stuffing pieces of bread into the pockets of his bookbag. “And hey, this whole thing, all the stuff we got planned for today, it wouldn’t’ve happened without you. So...thanks, Gamora.”

“These ideas were yours and Mantis’s, I was just a helping hand,” Gamora protested, though her face warmed somewhat with pride.

“I just mean...look, I know what everyone thinks when they see me. That I’m just a kid who don’t got much ambition, just kinda goes around doing whatever he feels like. Right?” Gamora nodded slowly, albeit guiltily. “It’s sorta...true. I wasn’t great at studying, ‘applying’ myself, all that crap they tell you to do in college. I dicked around for a while, I was kind of an asshole when I was a teenager. But I’d like to think I’ve moved past that stuff ‘cos of the good influences I had in my life. My mom, Mantis...and you’ve been a big help, too.”

“With what?”

“With giving a shit.” He laughed. “I know, it sounds dumb. We’ve only known each other for four months, but I learned a lot about how to be a teacher...maybe even how to be a friend. I dunno, I guess I just wanted to say that I’m glad to have you around.”

She could feel her throat stick, though she suspected it wasn’t because of the food. “You really shouldn’t be.”

“Gamora, wait - ” And just like that, she vanished into the crowd.

The rest of the day’s activities went by relatively smoothly, though Peter could feel discomfort brewing in his stomach from his conversation with Gamora. He led a holiday sing-along in all sorts of languages (most of which he was admittedly terrible at) in his classroom, went into the art studio to watch Mantis show students how to make paper-cut snowflakes and douse them in unhealthy amounts of paint and glitter, and even swung by to see Rocket and Groot, two teachers he hadn’t spent much time with until relatively recently, attempting to teach the children how to make cookies.

“This is undignified. We teach science and math, for god’s sake,” Rocket complained once they had sent the kids on their way, Groot watching them carefully to make sure they didn’t burn or cut themselves in the process. “I got _years_ of engineerin’ experience and here I am, doin’ a _baking_ tutorial for a buncha ten-year-olds!”

“You never know, these guys could be future engineers,” Peter pointed out. “You could have a whole _room_ full of geniuses!”

Rocket side-eyed him. “These idiots can barely tell the difference between a gas and a liquid.”

“They’re kids,” Peter exclaimed. “C’mon, Rocket, give ‘em a break. How’d you end up here, anyways?”

“Started off as community service for some of the bad shit me and Groot did when was younger,” Rocket said. “We were TAs at first. Then Groot got too attached to the kids, and, well...where he goes, I go. So we both got certified, and _bam_ \- been stuck here ever since.”

They watched in amicable silence while Groot gently patted the heads of every student who managed to roll their cookie dough into decent-sized balls, ready to be placed on the baking sheet. Peter smiled. “I can’t imagine Groot doing anything wrong in his entire life.”

“Decided to be friends with me. That’s when it all went sideways,” Rocket snorted, though something about his tone told Peter it wasn’t entirely a joke. “But you’re right. He’s good. He’s right where he belongs.” Groot looked over at them like he’d heard his name, smiling and waving cheerfully like they hadn’t seen in each other in ages. Peter and Rocket automatically waved back, Rocket scoffing with unmistakable fondness. “Anyways, how’s it goin’ for you, Quill? Did the brats break you in yet?”

“Not exactly the life I pictured living when I was a kid, but I’m liking how it’s going so far,” Peter shrugged. “I got my family, I got my music, I got enough money to live the life I wanna live...what else do I need?”

“More ambition, for one thing,” Rocket said, shaking his head. “You gotta think bigger, Quill! You don’t at least want more cash?”

“I’m good where I am. Aren’t you?” Peter countered.

Rocket sighed, his ears drooping as he did. “Yeah, who am I kiddin’. Who else is gonna hire me n’ Groot, anyways? We’re not exactly model employees. We ain’t model _anything_.”

“You’re decent teachers,” Peter offered. He smirked. “Or at least Groot is.”

“You’re an asshole, Quill, y’know that?” Rocket laughed without any real heat to it. A few students nearby gasped at his language. “Yeah, yeah, don’t tell the admin I said that, kids. I already got Kraglin on my tail for tinkerin’ with Ol’ Blue’s ship last month.”

Peter paused. “That was you? Yondu thought it was one of the older students!”

“Oh, man, what was the look on his face when he saw what I did to the engine?” Rocket was genuinely elated in a way Peter had never seen before, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “Did he start screamin’, like when his voice gets all hoarse and that vein in his neck starts pulsing - ”

“I think _you_ might be the real asshole around here,” Peter said, shaking his head.

“You’re not gonna tell ‘im, right?”

Peter looked down at Rocket then, an honest, earnest expression on his face that betrayed his usual crass demeanor. “Nah. You owe me, though.”

“Thanks, Quill,” Rocket said, relieved. “Hey, so what’s up with you and Gamora? You seemed okay until this morning. Saw her run off like you told her you were diseased or somethin’.”

“She gets weird about feelings, I guess. All I said was that I was glad to know her,” Peter sighed. “Didn’t think it’d be a big deal. Guess I was wrong.”

“Aw, you’re such a sap,” Rocket teased. “Gamora ain’t the type to get touchy-feely, never was. The fact you and your sister managed to get her to say more than ‘don’t do that’ and ‘listen to me’ is a damn miracle.”

“I don’t wanna make her uncomfortable or nothin’.” Peter glanced briefly at the door, wondering if it would be too late to drop by and apologize before the day was over. “I was just hoping...I dunno.”

“Go talk to her, then,” Rocket insisted. “Though if you manage to piss her off even more…” He trailed off with a horrified shudder.

“Yeah, I…I should do that.”

Peter left for her classroom a few minutes later - he had briefly stayed behind to help out with a student who had almost set Groot on fire somehow, resulting in the usual panicked chaos that was commonplace for Rocket and Groot’s joint classes - wondering what he could even say that wouldn’t make everything worse. He was so lost in thought he barely noticed her standing in the doorway when he walked right into it, or more accurately, walked into _her_.

“ _Peter_ ,” she growled.

“Hey, fancy meeting _you_ here,” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. The kids pointed and giggled. It was then that Gamora felt a cold sweat of dread break out across her forehead, her head slowly tilting upwards to see the mistletoe hanging above them.

“What is its purpose?” she had asked him last night as they were organizing the decorations.

“It encourages the people under it to kiss,” he had replied with a salacious smile.

“That sounds like a horribly antiquated tradition. We aren’t going to have it, especially when they’re just _children_ ,” she had protested.

“I don’t have time for your nonsense, Peter, especially not now,” Gamora hissed under her breath, glancing warily over her shoulder at the wide-eyed children.

“Wait, can we at least talk about earlier? Before we don’t see each other for two weeks?”

“There is nothing to talk about,” she said coolly. “And I heard Rocket was having troubles in his lab, so if you’ll let me by - ”

“I just came from there, he’s fine, Groot only got a _little_ burnt,” Peter said, waving it off. “Come by my room before you leave, okay? I’d hate for you to be mad at me.” Behind her, the class crooned with delighted approval.

“This is _exactly_ what I was talking about, Peter,” Gamora whispered, taking a step back so he would do the same. “And no.” With that, she firmly shut the door in his face.

* * *

Peter took what felt like his tenth lap around his empty classroom, hooking his fingers through the cabinet door handles along the way and rattling them to make sure they were locked, even though he’d done it three times already. His eyes roamed the rest of the room - clean whiteboard, chairs stacked neatly by the door, his bag sitting underneath the window, waiting for him to pick it up and go home.

“Mister Peter?” A timid voice came from the doorway. He turned on his heel to see Clementine, one of his fifth-graders, worrying at the shoulder strap of her bag fretfully.

“Hey, Clementine. You alright?” He gestured for her to come in. She took a few tentative steps toward him, her smile shy.

“I wanted to say thank you for the food,” she mumbled. “I know me n’ some of the others don’t have much where we’re from.”

“Where _are_ you from?” He settled down on the raised steps, patting the spot beside him for her to sit. She complied, her head lowered so he couldn’t see her face.

“Foster home,” she said. “They treat me well and try to get me new clothes and toys, but they haven’t been doing so good at work lately, so there’s not a lot of money for _anything_.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Peter said gently. “If you need food, or if your shoes start to feel too tight, or you don’t have new pencils, you come to me, okay?”

“I’m not asking for help,” she insisted. “I just think...maybe we can have breakfast at school be a regular thing. For kids like me.”

“Yeah?” He smiled. “You know what, I was thinking the same thing. This might not be the best school on Xandar, but we still have some money set aside for situations _just_ like this. I bet I can convince Principal Yondu to make it happen.”

“Thank you,” Clementine breathed, her large ice-blue eyes, unsettling at times, now softening with warmth. “I’m so glad you’re here, Mister Peter. I never thought much about music until you told us all those stories about your mom. And now, it’s sort of my favorite class.”

“That’s amazing, Clementine,” Peter grinned. “Glad I could change your mind. You remember your break assignment, right?”

“Find a song that makes me happy,” she recited, smiling brightly. She got to her feet, standing straighter than she had been before. “I’ll see you after break, Mister Peter!”

“You got it!” He waved as she skipped off with an invigorated bounce in her step. It was then that he noticed Gamora leaning in the doorway. “You always like to creep outside my room, don’t you?”

“Only when I’ve wronged you...when I need to apologize for what I’ve said and done. It’s not something I expected to happen so often,” she admitted, walking over to take Clementine’s spot beside him. “I shouldn’t let my impulse take precedence over my rationale. You were trying to be kind, and all I could think of was all the false niceties I’d been fed before. I suppose that’s where we differ the most.”

“What d’you mean?” He stared down at his hands, unsure of where to look.

“There are certain...concepts, I think, that we take to very differently.” Gamora smiled tightly. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to fight against what those six years had done to me, had expected of me. That I would become cold, distrustful, full of vitriol and spite. Then...it happened anyway. Those expectations, they dictated everything about me.”

“And me?”

“You defied your tragedies, recovered from them. You think yourself charming, romantic, sentimental - the hero of whatever story you’re trying to tell. And you have your issues, too, but they don’t exist in the forefront of your being. Not like mine. This...this isn’t me trying to say you haven’t suffered, or that _my_ suffering justifies my behavior, but that this isn’t some magical moment in which we both find whatever it is we’re looking for. We aren’t going to be able to solve each other’s problems, just like that.”

Peter swallowed, sinking a little into himself. “You’re perceptive, y’know that?”

“I prefer ‘analytical’,” she said, straightening up. “Do you understand what I’m trying to get at, Peter?”

“The way I see it, you like to over-complicate things. And I like to over-simplify ‘em,” he shrugged, turning to look at her. “You find a million reasons why something won’t work. I just need one reason that it will.”

“There was a...language teacher here before. He had a talent for all sorts of topics - grammar, poetry, short stories, the like. But he had a particular affinity for analytical reading,” Gamora murmured. “We were...involved. He loved to tell me how I would read as a character in a story - the tragic heroine who overcame her past. But he was wrong. I never did. I still relive it, over and over again. It was his misunderstanding of me that ultimately ended our relationship.”

“Okay, I get it, I won’t try to put labels on you,” Peter muttered. “I mean, what do I know?”

“You’re more accurate than he ever was, actually.” Gamora shot him a small smile. “I like being friends with you and Mantis. It’s a comfort compared to every other relationship I’ve had in my life. But that doesn’t mean we need to fundamentally change each other’s lives to be...important.”

“Important, hey?” He cracked a smile of his own. “ _All that_ to say that I’m important to you?”

“Peter - ”

“I got it,” he nodded, the knot in his stomach slowly untwisting. If anything, he could appreciate her bluntness, though he was a little disheartened. “For what it’s worth, sorry if it felt like I was pressurin’ you to be _anything_ , really. Holidays make me weirdly sentimental.”

“Speaking of…” Gamora got to her feet, gesturing towards the door. “If you’re ready to go, I have a few ideas for some events we could have in the new year that I could leave you with on the way out.”

He grinned, standing as well. “Walk with me.”

* * *

“You’re wearing holes in the carpet.”

Gamora turned away from the window, half-glancing over her shoulder across the room at Nebula, who was sprawled across the couch, her feet kicked up on the coffee table like the furniture was theirs. They were in a hotel in the heart of the city, surrounded by nothing but towering skyscrapers and the rush of life and sound bustling below. “They don’t usually take this long. What’s keeping them?”

“You ask as if they care to keep us informed,” Nebula said, rolling her eyes. “We are nothing more than a footnote in their agenda. I doubt they even remembered they were supposed to come back for us.”

Then, a knock on the door. Gamora smiled triumphantly, crossing the room to open it and greet the two Nova officers stood on the other side. “We’re ready for you,” one of them said, gesturing for her and Nebula to follow.

They went down the hallway into the largest suite on the floor, a room they’d never entered before, with high-vaulted ceilings and plush furniture, a contrast to the decent, but sparse-looking room they had been set up in. The most interesting thing in the room, however, was Nova Prime, sat on the fainting couch, with a spread of documents and files across the table before her, flanked by blank-faced officers. She barely glanced up when they entered.

“Sit,” she ordered kindly, but firmly. Gamora and Nebula sat opposite her in narrow armchairs, exchanging confused glances. “You’re wondering why I’m here, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Gamora said cautiously. “We haven’t seen you since we were children.”

“We’ve done these evaluations every year since we first found you. Every single time, we see improvements, setbacks, some drastic, some minor. All normal, all healthy. You’ve adjusted remarkably well compared to some others we’ve met with similar stories. So I thought I would go over your results and talk to you myself, and maybe...this could be the last time.” Nova Prime smiled.

“Okay,” Gamora nodded, swallowing. She could feel her heart beating in her throat.

“I’ll be blunt since I don’t think the three of us are the type to tiptoe around the subject. You two almost seem wasted in civilian life. You’ve got a lot of skills and knowledge that would guarantee excellent results in far more ambitious career paths. Teaching is an admirable job, of course, but I can’t imagine they appreciate your talents as they are, Gamora.”

“That’s...kind of you to say, but I have no desire to become an officer, or a spy, or whatever it is you think would suit me better. When I decided to become a teacher, it was because I wanted to be as far away from my old life as possible. I wanted to be a positive influence on children when I had none myself,” Gamora said.

“And I understand that. Your trauma has made those kinds of occupations and lifestyles unpalatable for you both. I thought I would just mention it, but we can move right along,” Nova Prime replied, her expression softening. “There haven’t been any incidents of any sort, violent or otherwise. You’ve been seeing your therapists when needed. It also says here you’ve made friends this past year, correct?”

“Yes,” Gamora repeated. “They’re mostly work friends, but Nebula and I have been spending time with them outside of my work hours.”

“That’s good to hear,” Nova Prime smiled. “You work, you socialize, you engage in self-care...and your transcripts, especially Gamora’s, they’re insightful. Your reflections are the kind of thing we like to see, though I hope you’re not getting too lost in your own thoughts.” Gamora thought back to two weeks ago, sitting beside Peter in his classroom, lying to him about how much he already meant to her in the last few months. She wondered if she should - or even _could_ \- keep up such pretenses forever. Then Nova Prime turned to Nebula, who was fixing her with a steely-eyed glare. “Do you feel that you’re unfit to work, Nebula?”

“I feel...that I am unfit to do anything other than what I was built for.” Gamora looked at Nebula in shock.

“You weren’t built, Nebula, you were made,” Nova Prime said quietly. “I’m not saying you have to live your life the way Gamora does or _anyone_ does. But your sister has expressed concern over your wellbeing many times, especially during the last few evaluations, and I just - ”

“I would like to go one _day_ without hearing about what my sister wants for me,” Nebula growled.

Nova Prime sat back, glancing over at one of the other officers, who wordlessly began to write something down. “Then I only have one more question for you both, and then we can finish up here. Are you...happy?”

“No,” Nebula said shortly. She stood and promptly stormed out. One officer moved to grab her, but Nova Prime silently held up her hand to stop him.

Gamora could feel pressure building in her chest, her breath coming in short. “Happiness isn’t as simple as you make it sound, Nova Prime. But if we’re speaking in general terms...I think I am. And that’s the best I can do for myself right now.”

“Okay.” Nova Prime’s smile seemed a little sadder now. “You’re free to go.”

“Is this the last one?” Gamora was almost afraid to ask.

“No, I...I don’t think so.”

Gamora returned to an empty hotel room, though she had a sneaking suspicion Nebula had gone downstairs to the hotel bar. She sat at the foot of her bed, ruminating over everything that had happened over the last few hours. The year’s end, while a time of celebration for most people, was a whirlwind of anxiety and emphasized loneliness for Gamora, knowing that their psychological evaluations were to be done. Between Gamora’s need for order and Nebula’s tendency for chaos, it usually took weeks for them to return to some semblance of peaceful co-existence. For now, it was like their childhood all over again - right at each other’s throats.

Then, she remembered what Nova Prime had said about her specifically, about letting herself get caught up in her own doubts. It sounded like someone else she knew. “Million reasons or one,” she whispered to herself, reaching for her phone.

“Gamora? Are you _actually_ calling me, or did you mean to call Mantis?”

“I mean no offense to her and her abilities, but I’ve already had enough people telling me how I feel today,” Gamora said wryly.

“So then...what’s up?” She could hear the vague shuffling of Peter moving around, likely so he could sit. For a brief moment, she imagined him getting comfortable in the living room among the scraps of supplies she hadn’t managed to clean up before leaving his place two weeks ago. “And wait, what people?”

“Nebula and I are evaluated on a yearly basis for our psychological health, after everything that had happened to us. We speak to experts, let them poke and prod us like lab experiments. They asked about motivation...intention. Wanting to know that we think the way other people do, that we can still be a part of society like everyone else. I mentioned how I had a...friend, who said I tend to overcomplicate everything.”

“Sounds like someone important,” Peter teased. There was a pause. Somehow, it was like he could sense her glaring through the phone. “Sorry, yeah, go on.”

“You talked about how you’ve been learning a lot from me, but I haven’t put in the effort to do the same for you. So...I’m going to try and learn when I don’t have to think about every last detail, every single outcome. I don’t need to worry about what our students think is going on between us, or what people think when they see me and my sister in the store, or what my parents would think of me if they saw me now.” Ironically, she hesitated. “I decided I didn’t need a reason to call you. Other than the fact that I wanted to.” Gamora hugged her knees into her chest, feeling as if she’d said something extraordinarily intimate.

His breath hitched. “Okay. I like the sound of that. What did you wanna talk about?”

“Anything that will help me forget that my sister is fifteen floors below me, drowning in alcohol and self-hatred. That, if I go and try to talk to her, it will do nothing but make everything worse.” She sighed. “Tell me about your time with the Ravagers. Or maybe your time with your mother. Something...happy.”

“Oh, I got stories,” Peter chuckled. “You got time?”

* * *

The first day back felt strange, to say the least. A new year always implied new beginnings, and yet, Peter felt like nothing had changed. The weather was still bitterly cold, the door handles still squeaked, his boots still needed to be replaced, and his room smelled vaguely of cleaning supplies, just barely masking the smell of stale, poorly maintained instruments.

Stranger still, he found thirty sets of eyes following him across the room while he set his bag down. “Hey, guys, how was your break?” he asked, turning to look at them.

“Good,” they chorused.

“Mister Peter, did _you_ have a good break?”

“Yeah, I did. Miss Mantis and I went on a little vacation together to a resort planet. Got myself a nice tan.” He held out his arm to show them, though he suspected they had something else on their mind. “So what’s with the funny looks? Did I forget to wear pants today?” Peter glanced downward, hopping exaggeratedly back and forth on his feet. The class laughed, but they were clearly still distracted.

“Some of the other kids said they saw you and Miss Gamora underneath the mis’letoe on the last day of school,” one of them exclaimed. “Is that true?”

Peter abruptly came to a stop, his feet slamming against the floor. “I wanted to talk to her, we just happened to be standing under it. That’s not...we aren’t...c’mon, guys, we got better things to be doin’. Grab your stuff and let’s start the lesson, okay?”

“Do you like her, Mister Peter?”

He ducked to start rifling through his bag for the handouts he was looking for, his back turned towards them so they couldn’t see the way his face was burning with more than mild embarrassment. “I _said_ , let’s start the lesson.”

“So you _do_ like her,” another student concluded.

“No, no I don’t,” Peter said far too quickly, straightening up. He sighed, rubbing at his temples. He was starting to see why Gamora was so against the idea of a publicly-known friendship. “I mean, I like her, she’s my friend and all...let’s not do this today, guys, c’mon. Take a handout, pass ‘em around, and let’s start with our break assignment. Anyone wanna share their song with the class?” The children looked disgruntledly at him, dead silence filling the room. “Anyone?”

“Did _you_ find a song, Mister Peter?”

Peter threw his hands up in the air in defeat, settling down in his chair. “Fine, fine, I’ll start.” He reached for his Walkman and pressed play, keeping the volume low so they could still hear him. “So, while I was on vacation, Miss Mantis and I were talking about family. You know how we were both adopted by Principal Yondu, right?” They nodded, sitting forward eagerly. “So we thought of all the good times we had with him, and I also thought about my mom. All the fun and cool and wonderful things we got to experience together...and some of the things that we never will.”

_Where were you when I was just seventeen?...searching for you in each and every dream..._

_I needed you those wasted years between...where were you all of my life?..._

It wasn’t until Clementine approached him with a tissue that Peter realized he’d started to cry, his eyes burning hot with tears as they threatened to roll down his face. “Don’t cry, Mister Peter,” she said sadly. “Your song was s’posed to make you happy.”

“I _am_ happy,” Peter promised, accepting the tissue with a grateful smile. “I just miss her, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry we asked you about Miss Gamora,” she continued. Clementine glanced over her shoulder at the rest of the class, who nodded in agreement. “We just saw you spending lots of time together and talking and stuff, and...we just _always_ wanted Miss Gamora to have a friend. And now _you’re_ here.”

“That’s okay. It’s good to be curious. Just not _too_ curious, alright?” Peter squeezed Clementine’s shoulder before sending her back to her seat, wiping his eyes and nose in haste. “We all know Miss Gamora likes her privacy, so don’t go askin’ her, either.”

“Okay,” they said reluctantly, though their faces were brighter than before. Hopeful, almost.

Peter smiled. “Good. Okay, so who wants to go next?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've said before, it's not a long-ish Peter/Gamora fic from me until I've taken a detour into Gamora and Nebula's relationship, too. This also somehow turned into my first Christmas-themed fic of the year, whoops! The next part will be focused on the spring semester and a certain end-of-the-year school dance ;)
> 
> Speaking of, the last part of this fic will be posted on the last Friday of November! The song at the end of this chapter was [Where Were You All Of My Life](https://open.spotify.com/track/5SjO1wSyie7oaTuDVMGxQn?si=Sq3cNIMsQxKElpLACWHesQ) by Bobby Vinton, which, pointless fun fact, I've been trying to fit into a fic since I was writing the second chapter of [everybody wants to rule the world](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12841176). Thank you so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)


	3. Chapter 3

“What’s the plan?”

“We don’t got a plan yet, but it’s def’nitely gonna work.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It don’t hafta, ‘cos I bet they’re gonna fall in love no matter what!”

“I...don’t think that’s how that works.”

“What are you all whispering about?” The kids jumped at the sound of Gamora’s voice, looking up fearfully into her stern face hovering above them. “And why aren’t you doing your work?”

“Sorry, Miss Gamora,” they chorused, scrambling back into their own seats. Her frown only deepened further.

“I mean it. What were you talking about?” she demanded.

“We have a group project for Mister Rocket’s class. We wanted to make plans for what to do,” one of them said, blinking up at her innocently.

Gamora sighed, turning to walk back to her desk. Clearly, she wasn’t about to get any real answers out of them, and she didn’t care enough to figure it out. “Do that again, and it’s detention for all of you.”

“Yes, Miss Gamora,” they mumbled, exchanging relieved glances.

A month had passed since the start of the spring semester, and despite Gamora’s growing warmth towards her co-workers - two of them in particular, really - she was the same teacher she’d always been, strict, watchful, with no patience for nonsense. The students, having witnessed her softer side during the last day before winter break, were now determined to get her to loosen up just a little bit more. In their minds, this meant one thing and one thing only: taking her relationship with Peter to the next level. But she didn’t need to know that.

On Gamora’s part, her relationship with Peter _had_ changed somewhat, if not quite at the speed (or frankly, the direction) that her students were hoping. She was more open to talking to him at work, rather than evading his greetings in the hallways or shooing him away when he dropped by her room for a visit. They often talked on the phone whenever they felt a little sad or frustrated, sometimes for hours, until the aches in their chests didn’t quite hurt as much. Mantis, of course, was delighted by any and all development.

“You are becoming like a sister to me,” she had confided one day, sipping on what had to be the fiftieth overly-sweet coffee Gamora had bought for her since she arrived. “I have always wanted a sister. Do not get me wrong, I love Peter, but he can be so _weird_.”

“Don’t have to tell me,” Gamora said dryly, taking a gulp of her own drink.

“I can hear you,” Peter complained from the other side of Mantis’s art room, where he was currently trying to rig up a speaker system so she could play classical music during work periods.

“I think that was the point,” Gamora drawled. Mantis giggled, and it was in that moment that Gamora felt truly...settled, in a way she hadn’t felt in a long, _long_ time.

That wasn’t to say _everything_ was going smoothly in Gamora’s life; Nebula’s deep-seated animosity was growing by the day. She was home far less, which would have comforted Gamora if she knew where she was going. She snapped at every little thing, stopped eating at the table, and only slept for a few hours at a time before slipping out of the house.

“She’s always been anti-social, but never like this,” Gamora said. She and Peter were in the teacher’s lounge together, alone, something that didn’t bother her anymore. “I would ask her therapist if she’s been attending her sessions if it wasn’t illegal for her to answer. She just needs to talk to _someone_ , anyone.”

“You’ve changed your tune,” Peter teased gently. “When we first met, I was positive I was never gonna get more than a name outta you.”

“Don’t change the subject,” she scolded. “I’m worried about her. Maybe even more worried than I was when we were children.”

“You could get Mantis involved,” he suggested. “Maybe she can help keep Nebula relaxed while you guys talk about this stuff.”

“I don’t want to coerce her into telling the truth. I want it to come from her, and her alone.” Gamora sank into her chair despondently. “It doesn’t help that the children have been acting weird, too. No matter the grade or class.”

“Weird how?”

“They gossip, far more than usual. And they ask too many questions.” she sighed. “I suppose this is the price I pay for allowing a little bit of my personal life to become publicly known. They think it gives them permission to know more.”

“Y’know, I’ve been getting some of that, too.” Peter hesitated, debating whether to bring up the questions they’d had for him on the first day back from break. “But hey, kids are curious! Don’t hafta worry about it unless they start asking about, I dunno, your sister or something.”

“I can’t let that happen,” she insisted. “We need to distract them with another event before they get too comfortable.”

“You make it sound like a threat,” he chuckled. “But sure, I had something in mind.”

“Like what?”

“On Terra, we call it Valentine’s Day, after Saint Valentine,” Peter explained. “Basically, it’s about...love. Usually romantic love.”

“They’re _children_ , Peter, why do you keep insisting on romance?” she protested.

“You said it yourself - I’m a romantic,” he said, grinning cheekily.

“I said you _think_ yourself a romantic,” she corrected. “Fine, go on, then.”

“In elementary school, we made cards with drawings and poems to give to people we liked. Usually, they made us make cards for _everyone_ so no one would be left out,” he added. “And it don’t have to be romantic love. It can be for friends and family, too. I know I always made my mom a card.”

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” she said consideringly. “We could use it as a way of teaching children how to express appreciation for others.” She smiled self-pityingly. “Something that I can’t say I have much experience in.”

“Don’t do that to yourself, alright? You’ve been awesome,” Peter said gently. “So, you in?”

“I doubt saying ‘no’ will deter you much,” Gamora sighed. “Yes, but only if you promise not to get _too_ involved. I think Yondu is still mad about the fake snow and dishwashing duties from last time.”

* * *

Gamora’s eyes roamed the sparsely populated halls as she entered the building, taking inventory of the paper hearts strung from the ceiling and the predictable love songs playing through the school’s speakers. Still, she silently commended Peter’s ability to scale back; there was no confetti on the ground or giant banners strung up against the doorways this time around.

She entered her classroom to the sound of suspicious giggles, and immediately began sweeping through her belongings to ensure no pranks had been pulled. Once she was certain her desk and chair were free of slime bombs and dead bugs, she rounded on her students. “What is it?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” one of them sing-songed, followed by more stifled laughter. With a long sigh, Gamora sank into her seat and waved them off dismissively so she could begin the lesson.

Once they started working in silence, Gamora found herself musing over the so-called holiday. She had spent all of the last week or so debating whether to write something for Nebula, Peter, or Mantis. Ruling out Nebula was, unfortunately, quite easy, given her sour attitude towards affection and, really, anything in general. Peter and Mantis, however, were...trickier.

Gamora wasn’t becoming dependent, she really wasn’t, but she would be lying if she said she wouldn’t be affected if anything happened to her friendships with them. They were patient, good-natured, kind in ways that she didn’t think came easy to anyone, even if they both had underlying issues of their own. Mantis’s childlike naivete had led to a handful of spats that neither of them were proud of, and Peter’s arrogance and erratic behavior had left him acting even stranger than usual as of late. He asked her odd questions with no explanation, even avoided her at times for reasons she couldn’t understand.

“Don’t try to play games with me, Peter, I can tell your behavior’s changed,” Gamora had hissed one evening when she was at his and Mantis’s for dinner. They were out on the balcony again, while Mantis was inside, washing dishes, unaware of what was going on outside. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” His voice had cracked on the last word.

“You brought me tea this morning and almost spilled it because your hands were shaking. Last week, you dropped by half a dozen times asking to borrow supplies that I know, for a _fact_ , you already own. You’ve also asked me at least three times what my music preferences are when you very well know the only music I’ve listened to is what you’ve played for me.”

Peter had only laughed nervously. “Oh...that stuff.”

Now that the day was finally here, she hadn’t seen nor heard him all morning. In fact, she’d barely seen him at all in the last few days. Before she could ruminate further, a student tapped politely on the surface of her desk to get her attention. “Miss Gamora?”

She looked up from the test she was half-heartedly marking, only to realize she’d made a mistake on the last three questions. Groaning, she reached for her correction tape, glancing briefly at the child who could barely see over her desk. “Yes?”

“Did you know Mister Peter has a big crush on you?”

“That’s not - that’s hardly appropriate conversation for the classroom, Clementine,” Gamora scolded. She paused. “When did you hear that?”

“Yesterday in his music class, when he told us,” Clementine said cheerfully.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like - ”

“He said, ‘I think Miss Gamora is real smart and cool and pretty and I like her a whole lot. Do you think she likes me, too?’. We said we weren’t sure,” Clementine continued, oblivious to Gamora’s incredulous expression. “I mean, you yelled at him real loud last week when he accidentally broke your pencil sharpener. But I think he did it ‘cos he wanted to talk to you.”

“He can talk me whenever he’d like,” she said bitingly, though she had to admit, the last part seemed to align with his most recent antics. Everything else left her heart pounding against her ribcage; she wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or out of hope. Maybe both. “Go back to your seat, Clementine, we aren’t discussing this.”

“But do you like him, too?” Clementine persisted.

“Detention, Clementine,” Gamora said, louder this time so the whole class could hear. Clementine’s large eyes grew even wider in shock; she’d been nothing but a near-perfect student otherwise. “After school, with me. Fifteen minutes.” She let out a frustrated groan, finally retreating back to her desk with clenched fists.

Gamora tried not to think about Clementine’s words as the day went on, but after watching her students exchange cards and small packets of candy with delight, hugging each other enthusiastically out of pure adoration and joy, she found herself sitting down at her desk during lunch instead of going to the teacher’s lounge, a blank piece of paper before her.

“‘Dear...Nebula’.” Gamora chewed her lip fretfully. “No, just...just ‘Nebula’.”

She wrote in frustrated silence for about twenty minutes before being interrupted by a knock at her door. “Peter - ”

“It’s okay. It’s just me.” Mantis smiled brightly, taking careful steps into the room. “I wanted to see why you are not at lunch with the rest of us. Are you marking something?”

“I’m actually making a card, strangely enough.” Gamora gestured for Mantis to pull up one of the tiny students’ chairs and sit. “Maybe I’m being idealistic, but I’d like to think there’s still hope for my sister.”

Mantis sank into a chair, peering at Gamora’s page, only to notice the wads of crumpled-up paper by her elbow. She clicked her tongue in sympathy. “I would like to think so, too. But...Gamora...what is it you want to accomplish in your relationship with her?”

Gamora paused. “What do you mean?”

“You always like to be very precise about everything. But when you say you want a good relationship with Nebula, what does that mean?” Mantis asked.

Gamora withdrew her hands from the surface of her desk, tucking them into her lap, wringing them between her knees fretfully. She suspected it wouldn’t do much to hide the anxiety Mantis was sure to detect regardless. “I want...to have a relationship where we can talk. Where we can create memories together that we’ll look back on fondly. Where we don’t look each other in the eyes, and only see our childhood reflected back at us.”

Mantis smiled sadly. “I know that, despite my powers, I am not a therapist. I do not want to be. I am already burdened with more knowledge than I could ever want. But from what I know of Nebula’s feelings, I think she would like that last one first.”

“I don’t know how that would be possible,” Gamora said quietly. “In her own way, she knows that she’s the most important person in my life, that I...that I love her. But it doesn’t erase what we did. What _I_ did to her when I was all she had. I’m _still_ all she has.”

“Then I do not think a card will feel genuine to her,” Mantis said, holding out her hand. Gamora wordlessly deposited the pencil she was gripping far too tightly into her possession. “She may _need_ love and affection, but she does not want it. Be patient. Be steady. Ask her, do not tell her.”

Gamora glanced down at her paper - the words were a jumbled mess, the meaning entirely lost - and she swept it and the other failed drafts into her recycling bin. She smiled. “Somehow, I think that was exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you, Mantis.”

“Of course,” Mantis beamed. “I have to do _something_ useful with my powers other than sense when Peter is hungrier than usual.” She got to her feet, suddenly halting when she was halfway out of her seat. “Oh! I almost forgot. Peter wanted me to give this to you.”

Gamora stared down in confusion at the package Mantis was brandishing in her direction. It was a small rectangular box wrapped in gift paper, bound haphazardly by a ribbon with a card envelope tucked in between. Knowing Peter, and judging by the shape and size of the box, there was no question what was inside. Her heart thumped once more. “Should I open it now?”

“You have to take it first,” Mantis teased. “And no. He said to open it when you know.”

“Know what?” Gamora took it regardless, though she held it at a distance, like she was afraid it was going to explode.

“That was all he said,” Mantis shrugged. Gamora groaned, because of _course_ Peter wanted to be cryptic about this. She opened one of her desk drawers and went to put it in, only to hesitate. Mantis watched with a knowing smile as Gamora shut the drawer and carefully put the gift in her bag instead.

* * *

As the semester went on, rain turned into sunshine, the bare bones of the trees became plush with vibrant blossoms, and the teachers grew more indignant with the students’ antics, with every class seemingly more restless than the last. Rocket, unsurprisingly, was the first to become suspicious when he noticed a group of them huddled in the corner of the lab, conspiring together.

“Not that I care, but what’re you kids up to now?” Rocket demanded, Groot hovering tentatively behind him.

“Did you hear about the end-of-the-year dance, Mister Rocket?” one of them chirruped happily, brandishing a bright poster in his face.

Rocket huffed. “How could I not? Quill - uh, Mister Peter won’t shut up about it. Don’t tell me _you’re_ going.”

“I am Groot,” Groot protested.

“Of course we are,” another said. “It sounds super fun! And Mister Peter’s had lots of good ideas.”

“Oh, sure, but his execution could use some work. I’m still findin’ that fake snow crap stuck in the cracks of the walls and floors,” Rocket sighed. “C’mon, kids, back to work. We need you degenerates to graduate, at least for _my_ sake.”

They scuttled back into their seats, but there was still something in their eyes that suggested they had more to say. Rocket shook his head in warning, but it was too late. “I am Groot?” Groot prompted. Rocket groaned.

“It says right here that Mister Peter and Miss Mantis are chap’roning, but they need one more teacher to help,” the first student explained, poking the fine print running along the bottom of the poster. “Are you gonna do it, Mister Groot?”

“Me n’ Groot are a pair, and I don’t wanna do it,” Rocket interjected before Groot could say anything. Still, Groot turned to him with a wounded expression that almost made Rocket want to change his mind. “Don’t look at me like that, dude, I got plans.”

“Do you even know what day it’s happening?” another child asked doubtfully.

“Don’t backtalk me, kid. Crack open your books, we’re talkin’ about plant life today. Groot’s got a demo for you, if that helps you pay attention for once.”

Drax wasn’t faring much better, either, as he began dividing up his students into teams during his gym class, only to find them chattering loudly in groups he hadn’t assigned for them. Upon calling for their attention, only a handful of them turned to look his way. “You’re preoccupied about something,” he observed, moving closer. “What is it?”

“Mister Peter’s got a _dance_ planned for us.” They held up the poster for him to see. “Are you gonna go, Mister Drax?”

He snorted. “Where I come from, dancing was commonplace during festivities, like holidays and war rallies. I have had enough of music and foolish flailing for a lifetime.”

“But they need another teacher to supervise, Mister Drax,” another added. “Don’t you wanna help?”

“I’m sure they will find another. Now line up!” Drax blew his whistle sharply, causing everyone to clap their hands over their ears in agony at the sound, sprinting off into their positions just to get away from him.

“You know what _that_ means,” one student whispered to another. Giggles echoed all the way down the line. _Success_.

* * *

“Have I not done enough for you two?” Gamora was dismayed to find her usual steely-eyed glare was losing its effect on Peter and Mantis - she really _was_ spending too much time with them, wasn’t she? - as they entered her classroom precisely one week before the dance.

“We haven’t said anything yet!” Peter exclaimed defensively. Her glare intensified. “...yeah, okay, that’s what we’re here for. But it’s just to chaperone. Not to plan or make decorations or anything, I promise.”

“The _entire_ student body is going to be there, we need one more teacher to keep watch,” Mantis pleaded. “Everyone else has already turned us down.”

“Really?” Gamora said dubiously. “Even Groot?”

“...Rocket said ‘no’ and Groot always goes with whatever Rocket says,” Mantis hedged. “Please, Gamora?”

“Oh, you’re both impossible,” Gamora grumbled, rolling her eyes so hard that they both were mildly worried she’d pulled something in the process. “Then I have something to ask of you in exchange.”

A few days later, Peter and Mantis found themselves standing outside an unfamiliar house, looking at each other nervously, unsure if they had gotten the right address. It wasn’t too dark out just yet - Xandarian spring evenings seemed to stretch out for ages before the sun settled down for the night - but the house itself looked imposing and barren all the same, made even more intimidating by the tall skyscrapers that cluttered the horizon beyond. It was modestly-sized, far more modern than contemporary, with a sparse, neatly-maintained lawn. The only indication that anyone even lived there was a single porch light glowing dutifully above a plain doormat.

“I am still not sure if this is a good idea,” Mantis admitted. “Does she not think it will make things worse?”

“Sounds to me like she’s tried everything,” Peter replied, though he was also hesitant. “But she’s right. We’ve asked her to help us out a lot this year, it’s time we start helpin’ her out, too.”

Mantis nodded, taking an exaggerated breath of anticipation, and finally went to knock on the door. Gamora answered moments later with a tight smile. “Thank you for coming,” she said slowly, like she had to think about it. “Shoes off before you come in.”

Stepping inside the house was an even more alien experience for them both, and it became immediately obvious why Gamora frequented their house so often instead of inviting them to hers. It was darkly lit, void of decorations or, really, any personal touches to speak of. They were guided into the sitting room while Gamora went to get Nebula, and it was practically empty - two linen couches forming a right angle, a television cabinet with nothing in it, a holoscreen above, playing the news, and a bookcase against the wall opposite the front window, the only thing that seemed to have any character at all.

“This feels very cold,” Mantis whispered. “Maybe we should bring Gamora something next time. Like some artwork, or maybe a plant.”

“I think a paint can would be a nice start,” Peter whispered back.

“I can hear you,” Gamora deadpanned, walking down the stairs with a reluctant Nebula in tow. “Follow me.”

The dining area was just as sparse, with a simple table offset from the kitchen and high-back chairs atop a grey low-pile rug, the only thing either of them could possibly identify as a decoration in the entire house. It all felt a bit too much like a showroom, if anything. What surprised them both were the portions on the plates set neatly in front of them. “And you always complain about us givin’ you too much food,” Peter teased as they sat down.

Gamora paused. “I was under the impression it was impolite to offer anything less than excess.” She looked shifty-eyed. “I’ve never had to entertain others before, or really, done _anything_ like this.”

“Ever,” Nebula added shortly.

“Oh.” Mantis shot Peter a dirty look; he could only shrug apologetically in Gamora’s direction. “Well...everything looks really good.”

Once they started eating, the conversation commenced like any other meal they’d had together with Nebula around, with the three of them awkwardly avoiding talking about work in worry that she would feel left out, only to eventually give in to their favorite topic - _complaining_ about work.

“I can’t find a single place that’ll make us a big ol’ balloon arch,” Peter said. “I see ‘em in movies all the time, why’re they so hard to get?”

“Because you only watch _Terran_ movies, Peter,” Gamora said exasperatedly. “Balloons are uncommon on Xandar, you’ll have to try something else.”

“Do you have any suggestions?” Mantis asked.

Gamora waved her fork in warning. “You are _not_ dragging me into this again.”

“Xandarian children like bubbles.” Everyone’s head swivelled comically towards Nebula, who was still slouched in her chair in her very Nebula-like way, her face so expressionless it was like she hadn’t spoken at all. “If you haven’t tried _that_ yet, you truly must be the idiot I thought you were.”

“ _Nebula_ ,” Gamora warned, but Peter held up his hand before she could continue.

“Bubbles, huh? How do you know that?” he asked, leaning forward.

“Observation.” When Peter motioned for her to elaborate, she sighed. “Have you never gone somewhere public just to people-watch before? See the comings and goings of their insignificant lives?”

“I was with you until that last part,” Peter countered with an easygoing grin. “Now all I’m doin’ is picturing you sitting on a park bench, watching kids play with bubbles on the playground.”

Nebula huffed. “Bite me, Quill.” Gamora nudged her foot underneath the table. Nebula kicked her back.

“It was one of the first things our father showed us when we first met.” Now it was Peter’s turn to look incredulously at his sister. “We were on the front steps of his house - it was more like a castle, I suppose - and he made us these very colorful rainbow bubbles that split into dozens when you popped them. We only met him last year, but I felt like a little girl all over again. I thought he was magic.”

Nebula tilted her head curiously, though her expression didn’t change. “Was he?”

“For a little while. And then he was not.” Mantis’s head bowed a little. “I do not mean to complain. I know you were both with yours for much longer than we were with ours.”

“Don’t - ”

“And I also do not mean to compare our tragedies like some contest,” Mantis continued, lifting her chin in defiance. “I just never believed that the suffering of one person invalidates the suffering of everyone else. And I know I would have never recovered if it wasn’t for my family. My _real_ family. People who actually care about me.”

“I see what you’re doing here, all of you,” Nebula said cooly. “If this is some twisted attempt at group therapy, I want no part in it.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Gamora said firmly, grabbing Nebula’s hand before she could run off. “We can just...talk. About whatever you’d like.”

Nebula grumbled nonsensically under her breath, shoving more food into her mouth. The others reluctantly went back to eating as well, figuring she had nothing more to say. “And don’t play your awful music either, Quill. Not unless you want everyone to bleed from every possible orifice, and _then_ some.”

“Great mental image to have while I’m eating,” Peter replied cheerfully without missing a beat.

“I mean it. I could feel my brain melting with disgust the first time I had the misfortune of visiting your home,” Nebula sneered, though there was a quirk in the corner of her mouth that suggested she was only teasing.

“Don’t knock the greats! I played my best stuff that evening,” Peter protested.

“To impress my sister, I’m sure,” Nebula said. Gamora nearly choked on her soup. “Gamora, you agree with me, don’t you?” It was possibly the first time she’d ever asked for her opinion, leaving Gamora nearly speechless. Well, that, and the fact she was still coughing.

“I’ve always said that Peter has questionable taste in nearly everything. His wardrobe, for example,” Gamora said lightly, trying not to let her eyes roam too much across the exaggerated broadness of his shoulders in the shirt was wearing.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Peter exclaimed.

“Too much,” Mantis giggled. “You have so many pockets and zippers for someone who does not carry things. You are a teacher, not an adventurer.”

“I could be!”

“I doubt you have the disposition for it. You shriek like a child when you’re startled, you’d be eaten immediately by whatever was pursuing you,” Nebula said derisively. “Certainly not women.”

“First of all, I am... _very_ successful in that department, thank you,” Peter said, briefly glancing at Gamora. He was surprised to find her looking back, her hand clasped over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. “And I have a _very_ manly scream. You were standing at the top of the stairs without moving, okay, it felt like a frickin’ horror movie!”

“Good to know. I’d rather terrify you than anything else,” Nebula shot back. As the two of them continued to bicker, Gamora and Mantis smiled silently at each other in victory.

Once Peter and Mantis had left for the night, Gamora let out a contented exhale as she closed the door, surprised to find Nebula standing right behind her when she turned around. “Nebula, I - ”

“You’re eternally transparent, sister. You’ve always been such a terrible liar,” Nebula said, stone-faced. “You think I lack the things you’ve craved all these years - purpose, companionship, affection. It’s a wonder they thought _I_ was the weak one.”

Gamora sighed in defeat. “You’re right,” she murmured. “I’ve spent years pushing my ideals onto you, believing them to be universal. The best way to train, to sleep, to appeal to our father...the best possible way to live our new lives. But my beliefs were never yours. So tell me, Nebula...what do _you_ believe in?”

Nebula hesitated. “I’ve yet to figure it out.”

“Is there something I can do to help?” Gamora asked.

Nebula shook her head. “No. At least...not yet.”

Gamora smiled. _Progress_. “Then we don’t have to talk about it. But know that I’m here to listen.”

Nebula flinched when Gamora stepped closer, eyeing her cautiously while she carefully took her hand and briefly squeezed. Gamora then let go and went to walk up the stairs, exhausted from the evening’s events. She paused when she heard Nebula call after her. “Gamora.” She turned. “Your friends are...acceptable.”

Gamora’s careful smile widened just a little bit further. “I think so, too.”

* * *

Peter’s heart drummed impatiently, half-urging him to join everyone on the dance floor, but no, he couldn’t. Sure, he’d firmly solidified his reputation as the “cool teacher” among the faculty, but he was here to keep an eye on things, and he certainly couldn’t do that from the middle of a crowd. Mantis was on the opposite side of the gymnasium, supervising the food table and diligently pouring out cups of Majesdanian punch, waving when she spotted him looking her way. He waved back, then continued to scan the room, soon finding himself lost in thought.

It had been a year like no other, that was certain. Not just for the students - there was no doubt the school’s culture had become more of a community than ever before - but for Peter himself. Childhood had been easy enough, never thinking too far ahead aside from what he was going to have for dinner or what he was going to do with his mom on their weekends off. The future was ambiguous, untroublesome, and he liked it that way. He didn’t mind it.

But now he was responsible for himself, his family, and of course, the children. And yes, he had to admit, music was not going to affect their future education prospects quite as much as their ability to write a good essay or make a strong presentation, but he knew he couldn’t slack off. He couldn’t have one moment in which he let his students down, and honestly, it scared him. Having that many people rely on him to always be in a good mood, to have a good day, it was unknown, and not the kind of unknown that he liked. But he couldn’t let _that_ show, either.

“You seem pretty quiet for someone who claims to love dancing.” His head turned immediately at the sound of her voice, and he felt his breath catch in his throat like it was the first time he’d ever seen her all over again. For once, Gamora was wearing something that didn’t quite fit inside the confines of a classroom, a black wide-legged jumpsuit with a sash, and possibly more surprisingly, _heels_. Her hair was lightly curled, and he wasn’t sure if she was wearing makeup - Peter had never been that good of a judge in that respect - but her eyes were shining the way they had been for the past few days, bright and hopeful.

“What happened to _you_?” Peter had asked her just yesterday when she walked into the teacher’s lounge with a bounce in her step.

“When I got home from work last night, Nebula _asked_ me how I was doing, completely unprompted,” Gamora had replied elatedly. “I think after all this time...I’m finally getting somewhere.”

Now, Peter was looking at that same joy, utterly infectious, his own smile spreading slowly across his face. “Thinkin’ about stuff, that’s all.”

“Don’t think _too_ hard. You have a job to do,” Gamora said dryly, though her eyes softened. “Is it something you...want to talk about?”

“I guess I’m thinkin’ about how I never really know if what I’m doing is...what I wanna be doing. I mean, is there ever a point where, as an adult, you finally figure it out? Or does it go on like this forever?” He then glanced over at her, chuckling. “Askin’ the wrong person, though. I should look for someone who _doesn’t_ have color-coded calendars and a desk agenda.”

“Are you doubting your career choice, Peter?” she asked, frowning. “I told you once that you make education feel like it’s worth something. And I think, in this lifetime at least, that you were meant to be here.”

“So I _can_ be an adventurer in ‘another’ lifetime?” he teased, elbowing her gently. She rolled her eyes. “Hey, I think I’d be pretty good at it. Travel the galaxy, doin’ whatever I felt like doing. Live by my own rules.”

“I doubt that life would work for me,” she remarked. “I’ve been at the mercy of elements I couldn’t control before. I won’t let that happen ever again.”

“For the record...I think you’d be a fun person to travel with,” Peter said quietly.

“Really,” Gamora said flatly.

“ _Someone_ needs to help budget the whole thing. Don’t wanna blow it all on booze and fuel in the first week,” he grinned. “But seriously, Mantis and I were thinking of going somewhere over the summer, dunno where yet. You wanna join us? Hell, bring Nebula if you want, as long as she doesn’t sit around and complain all day.”

She blinked, stunned. “I...let me think about it. But does that mean you’re done, then? That, once you leave, there’s a chance you’ll decide this wasn’t meant for you?”

“I think I like where I am. Who I’m with. I’ve spent years movin’ around, it’s about time I settle down.” His eyes suddenly lit up. “Speaking of moving…”

“Peter,” she warned.

“Dance with me.” He stepped around to face her, holding out his hand. There was something so painfully earnest in his eyes that Gamora didn’t hesitate nearly as long as she thought she would have, placing her hand in his.

“Only because those students over there seem to literally be stepping on everyone’s toes,” she said.

“That’s the spirit,” he laughed, tangling their fingers together and guiding her out into the crowd. She felt momentarily ridiculous, towering over most of the students, who were staring up at them with wide eyes. Then Peter’s hands settled on her waist, and she turned back to him, startled to find his face far closer to hers than she realized.

_We go to a party and everyone turns to see...this beautiful lady that's walking around with me..._

“Did you open it yet?” Peter asked after a few moments of comfortable silence. “Y’know, the thing I got you for Valentine’s Day.”

“Is that what that was?” Gamora said blithely. “I was instructed to open it ‘when I know’, which I clearly don’t.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“‘It’, as in your present?”

“Or...y’know...us. As a concept.” He smiled easily, though there was a nervous twitch in his eye that betrayed his usual confidence.

_And then she asks me, do you feel alright?...and I say, yes, I feel wonderful tonight..._

“People know we’re friends, Peter, and it doesn’t bother me anymore,” she said.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” he replied softly. “I...I’ve never really felt like I could _belong_ somewhere before I got here. Lot of that has to do with you.” He chuckled. “I mean, you were an _awesome_ tour guide on my first day. Never have I been so fascinated by a story about Orloni livin’ in the vents. Can’t enter a room without looking up first.”

“And _you_ know that I don’t like when people take forever to get to the point,” Gamora said sharply. “So tell me. Tell me, or I’m going to go back to doing my job, like _we_ are supposed to be doing.”

“Okay, okay.” Peter smiled ruefully. “So...and maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t wanna be...but I think there’s something between us. Somethin’ we haven’t really talked about. And...I know how I feel. Question is, do _you_?”

Now it was Gamora’s turn to feel her breath catch in her throat. “Is that what you meant? About knowing ‘when I know’?”

“Yes.” His answer was immediate, though he continued to move them both slowly, gently, across the room. His hands were now resting on the small of her back, warm, steady, constant.

Gamora fell entirely silent then, her head subconsciously drifting closer until her cheek brushed against his shoulder, almost like she was going to rest upon it. Peter wondered if he could hear the thunder of his heart beating in his chest, anticipating either the very best or very worst outcome, with no room for in between. She didn’t seem like the kind to leave loose ends, and yet - “Give me time.”

“I can do that,” he said, his breath coming out embarrassingly shaky. “Can we finish this song, though?” She nodded, her cheeks flushed with heat, taking a slight step backward as if she’d just realized how close they’d gotten.

_I feel wonderful because I see the love light in your eyes...and the wonder of it all is that you just don't realize how much I love you..._

“I became a teacher for a selfish reason, you know.” Peter looked down at her, surprised by the sudden change in topic. “The moment Nebula and I were free, recovering in the hospital, I laid in that bed, dreaming about what I could do...and having nightmares about what I could have done. If I’d spent my adult life under his rule, doing unspeakably horrific acts in his name. Being in education felt like the kind of redemption I needed for something I never really did.”

“That don’t sound selfish,” Peter protested. “Sounds like you found a way to help yourself and help others at the same time. That’s all any of us are trying to do, right?”

“I suppose,” Gamora sighed. “I guess it’s no less of a noble reason than anyone else’s.”

“Exactly,” he said. “And the kids care about you. First day back this semester? They told me they always wanted you to have a friend.” He glanced away for a moment, swallowing. “And if friendship’s all you want...that’s okay.”

_I say, my darling, you were wonderful tonight...oh my darling, you were wonderful tonight..._

The song came to a gentle end, and Gamora slowly stepped out of Peter’s grasp, though she seemed reluctant. “Give me time,” she repeated. “Though you should know...I think there’s something between us, too.” He nodded, watching her go with a strange, melancholic ache in his chest.

It was then that he felt a tug on his sleeve; he turned to see Clementine standing in front of him, wearing a glittery purple dress and a disappointed expression. “You were s’posed to kiss her, Mister Peter,” she said sternly.

“I - what?”

“It’s like all the stories you told us that your mama told you,” Clementine continued like she hadn’t heard him. “When two people like each other, they talk, and dance, and kiss!”

“Those are just stories, Clementine,” Peter sighed. “And what’d I tell you about talkin’ about this stuff? Go dance with your friends, okay?”

“But me and my friends had this whole plan, and - ” Clementine looked genuinely upset.

Peter gently guided her by the shoulder away from the crowd and crouched down in front of her. “What are you talking about?”

“Miss Gamora once said that the best way to get people not to do somethin’ is to tell them to do it,” Clementine said defiantly. “So we begged all the teachers to be chap’rones so they wouldn’t. Then you’d only have Miss Gamora, so she would come here and then you could dance and talk and - ”

Peter groaned, rubbing his temples. “You gotta be kidding me.” She shook her head adamantly despite the rhetorical question. “Clementine, look, you all had good intentions, but you don’t go around messin’ with people like that. It could really hurt someone’s feelings.”

“But you said you had feelings for Miss Gamora, and I bet she has feelings for you,” Clementine sing-songed with a childish grin. “I bet she’s gonna tell you before the year is over.”

“Don’t hold your breath, kid,” Peter said, straightening up and clapping her on the shoulder. “C’mon, go have fun with your friends. And maybe tell the other teachers what you did when we’re back on Monday, I bet Mister Rocket is gonna get a good laugh outta this.”

* * *

Gamora didn’t return home until unusually late, when the only discernible sounds were the wind whistling through the trees and the mind-numbing buzz of the streetlamps guiding her along the way. She’d barely seen Peter throughout the rest of the evening, exchanging a few sentences every now and then whenever necessary, but were otherwise too preoccupied with their duties to converse again. Now that everything was silent, eerily calm, the only thing she was left with was her thoughts.

That, and the sound of Nebula eating chips in the kitchen. Gamora blinked, unsure if was hallucinating. “Nebula?”

“I was hungry,” she said dryly, popping another one into her mouth. “Besides, I thought it might interest you that I’ve found something.”

“You did?” Gamora kicked off her shoes and quickly made her way over to her sister. “What?”

“Engineering classes at that stupid community college,” Nebula replied. “I’ve spent years tinkering with my own mechanics, I figured I could continue to distract myself with the same thing. Only now I have to pay for it.”

“You make fun of that place whenever we walk by it,” Gamora said suspiciously. “What changed?”

“Nothing. Certainly not me,” Nebula snorted. “I hate to admit this, sister, but...you may be right. I grow bored, sitting at home…” She trailed off, shoulders slumping. “...wondering if he was right. If I’m only worth the spare parts you could salvage from my body.”

“Never,” Gamora said automatically. “You’ve always been worth more, Nebula.”

“Well, I don’t need a purpose,” Nebula said quietly. “My desires don’t run as deep as yours. I just need something to do.”

“I’m glad you found that something,” Gamora smiled. “And if you need anything - ”

“It’s within walking distance and I’ve already discussed getting an education loan with Nova Prime, so stop thinking I need your help,” Nebula snapped, though she looked regretful the moment she said it.

Gamora took a step back, holding her hands up. “Fair enough.”

However, that only made Nebula more wary. “You seem passive tonight, sister. Something plagues you.”

Gamora sank into a nearby dining chair, twisting her hands fretfully in her lap. “When we were first placed here under the careful eye of the Nova Corps, I set rules for us, for myself. You’ve not cared for them since the moment they were created, but me? I’ve lived by them this whole time,” she murmured. “They’ve changed over time, evolved, even, but now I wonder if they’re even worth it. If it’s about time that I start realizing my principles shouldn’t dictate every action I ever take, every thought I ever have. That I can just...work on what makes me happy.”

“You’re full of philosophical musings for someone who just came back from a _children’s_ event,” Nebula snarked, though there was no real heat behind her words. “Sleep on it, sister. You have the whole weekend to let your mind consume you.”

“I’d rather it didn’t. That’s the whole point,” Gamora said, getting to her feet. “Goodnight, Nebula.”

She made her way upstairs, feeling considerably lighter and heavier at the same time. She shut her bedroom door behind her with a quiet _click_ , knowing that, for once, Nebula was anticipating something, and that itself was worth celebrating. Still, her own situation muddled her brain as she got changed and collapsed on top of her bed, only to remember she had one last thing she wanted to do before falling asleep.

Gamora went to her desk, knelt to reach her bottom drawer, and pulled out its only contents - Peter’s gift - and brought them back to bed. She sank into the pillows, carefully ripping open both the gift and the envelope, watching as the Walkman tumbled onto her sheets. It had a tape inside, a different tape than the ones she’d gifted him, different than the ones his mother had shared.

She hesitantly pressed play, then opened the card and began to read.

_Gamora,_

_When I was a kid, I swear these were a lot easier to write. All you had to say was ‘I think you’re cool!’ or ‘You’re awesome at tag!’ and that was good enough. But I don’t wanna be just ‘good enough’, I wanna be enough for you. Over the past year, you’ve been an incredible friend, a huge inspiration, and one of my favorite people in the entire galaxy. You’re smart, confident, brave, gorgeous, and you make me laugh. I like spending time with you, and I like who I am when I’m with you: myself. I’m really, REALLY glad that Yondu insisted that I work at his school, because I would’ve never met you otherwise, and I can’t imagine a life where you aren’t there, snarking at me for using too much paper or breaking your pencil sharpener (sorry, by the way - I’ve just been really nervous about telling you all this, I know I’ve been acting super weird). A life where we don’t get to talk and laugh and be in each other’s company._

_I know you’ll always be independent, and you’ll never need anyone else to make you happy. But you make so many other people happy - our students, my sister, YOUR sister, and me. In the words of every cheesy Hallmark commercial ever: will you be mine?_

_Hoping to be yours,_

_Peter_

_P.S. I just remembered ‘Hallmark’ is a Terran thing. It’s this company that makes corny cards and cornier movies, don’t worry about it._

_P.P.S. Actually, I think this whole card is kind of cheesy, now that I’m reading it back. I've been watching too many 80s movies._

_P.P.P.S I should’ve made a bigger card. Dammit._

“Oh, Peter,” Gamora chuckled under her breath, curling her legs up against her chest. She felt her heartbeat relax in contentment, like she’d been swallowed up in a warm hug. It wasn’t the smoothest of sentiments, a little rough, a little unrefined, but something told her she didn’t need the rest of the weekend to decide on what she already knew, what she’d maybe already known for a while now. There was, however, one more thing she needed to do before Monday morning.

_Dreams are for those who sleep..life is for us to keep..._

_And if you're wondering what this song is leading to...I want to make it with you..._

* * *

“Good morning, Mister Peter,” the entire room chorused in perfect unison, sitting dutifully on the floor in front of him.

He smiled sleepily, setting his bag down by the front. Despite being sober, he still felt like he’d been experiencing a hangover since the dance. “You kids have fun on Friday night?”

“The _most_ fun I’ve ever had,” one child boldly proclaimed. The others nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “We gotta do it again next year, Mister Peter!”

“You... _are_ coming back next year, right?” Clementine asked worriedly.

“Of course I am, Principal Yondu would kick my butt if I didn’t,” Peter laughed. They let out a collective sigh of relief. “Where’d you hear _that_ rumor?”

“Dunno. Some of the other teachers were worried you and Miss Mantis weren’t gonna stay,” another shrugged. “But we’re real glad you are.”

“So am I,” Peter said quietly. “Alright, we’ve got one more week before school’s out for the year, I already got your marks in, so let’s just have some fun, okay? And for Friday’s class, I want you all to bring in one song that reminds you of a person who makes you feel happy.”

“Like who?”

“Whoever you want. Your mom or dad, your siblings or cousins, your best friend, your favorite teacher…” Peter trailed off with an obvious wink, earning a chorus of laughter that made his heart feel just as full as it did when he listened to his mother’s favorite song. “You don’t have to tell us who it is, just think on it, and bring something meaningful.”

“Do you have a person, Mister Peter?”

“Hey, I didn’t say _I_ have to do the assignment,” he scolded, chuckling. “But...maybe I’ll have something, too.” It was only then that he could decipher the knowing looks that his students exchanged, and he glanced over at Clementine, wondering whether he should reveal that he was in on the joke, too. But maybe...it was better to leave the magic untouched.

Soon enough, the hour drew to a close and the students began packing up, ready to move on to their next morning class, when there was a knock at the door. Everyone perked up, delighted to see it was none other than Gamora leaning against the doorframe, her hands clasped neatly behind her back.

“Can I talk to you outside for a minute?” Gamora asked, nodding towards the hallway.

“I thought you’d still be teaching right now,” Peter said, following her out and shutting the door behind him. He could vaguely hear groans of disappointment inside.

“I dismissed them early. I was going to give you this at the end of the day, but...I realized I’d be distracted if I didn’t do it now.” Gamora held out the Walkman, now accompanied with an envelope of her own. Peter carefully took them both, hooking the Walkman back onto his belt and tearing open the envelope. He held his breath as he took out the small, plain notecard.

_Peter,_

_In one word, instead of the many I would fail to use to express how much my feelings reflect yours: yes._

_Yours,_

_Gamora_

Peter’s eyes widened, looking up to see Gamora smiling broadly in return. “Really?”

“Your confidence is inspiring,” she teased. “And as much as I adore your sister and mine, I think it’s about time we have dinner without them.” She held out her hand for him to take; he grabbed it automatically, squeezing tight.

“I...agree,” Peter replied, swallowing thickly. “What’re you doing tonight?”

“I _was_ planning on marking exams, but - ”

“You gave ‘em final exams? They’re like, twelve years old, max!” Peter exclaimed.

She furrowed her brow at him. “If we’re going to make this work, we really should stop questioning each other’s teaching methods. Maybe leave work at work altogether.”

“That doesn’t sound bad, actually.” He wrapped his arms around her middle like he’d done three nights ago, fingers interlaced behind her back. Her hands settled against his chest, his heart beating steady beneath her fingers. “Okay, so dinner, you and me, and maybe we can talk about that trip?”

“Planning ahead? I like the sound of that.” Gamora stood slightly on her toes so she could peck him gently on the cheek. “I should go, I need to set up for next period.” Peter then turned his head so his mouth met hers, a brief kiss that caused her to let out a startled, but pleased noise. They were then interrupted by shouts of victory from inside the room. He instinctively lifted his hand to flip them off, momentarily forgetting who their unwanted audience was, but Gamora firmly grasped his wrist and pulled it back down. “ _Peter_.”

“I’m gonna be hearing that a lot, aren’t I?” he laughed, finally letting her go. He couldn’t quite see her face when she turned to walk back down the hall, but he watched fondly as she shook her head in amusement, uttering a soft laugh under her breath that he could only hope was the first of many. Then, he called after her, louder, mostly for the children who couldn’t otherwise hear them: “I’ll see you tonight, Miss Gamora.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! I'd like to imagine that Peter and Gamora go on to be the school's power couple, much to Peter's delight and Gamora's embarrassment (though she'd sort of secretly enjoy it, too). Here's a look at [Gamora's jumpsuit](https://images.asos-media.com/products/asos-lace-top-jumpsuit-with-structured-knot/8836764-1-black?%24XXL%24&wid=513&fit=constrain), and the songs in this chapter are [Wonderful Tonight](https://open.spotify.com/track/6zC0mpGYwbNTpk9SKwh08f?si=A_0tOmsAR_ePNPtZa69Y6A) by Eric Clapton and [Make It With You](https://open.spotify.com/track/7wWw7hBmErNg9u5w6Xx0vy?si=wYvfnRY-SneuKW_8GBQJ-w) by Bread.
> 
> I have three more fics that I'll be posting this year - two prompt fills and a Christmas-themed 20Q fic - but next year, I will be posting another (very long, tbh) Peter/Gamora AU! It won't be domestic and fluffy like my last few have been, but more along the lines of [everybody wants to rule the world](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12841176), so if you're into world-building, hopefully it'll be of interest to you.
> 
> Thank you to those who have read, commented, kudoed, liked, and reblogged, I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoyed, and have a good one :)


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